Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster
by Oddly Ginger
Summary: Our favorite Zeppo gains a new, strange perspective on life on the Hellmouth. As the first (and only) Vampire King, he's fighting the good fight in a new way - and stopping the world from ending. Again.
1. Good Glob, I'm A Monster!

_-Author's Note-_

_So I guess fanfiction is the cool thing to do, now? Either way, this is what came dripping out of my brain, and I really hope you enjoy reading it! I know crossover works aren't exactly as popular or well-read as cannon fics, but this is just what I wanted to write._

_My thanks to Pendleton Ward and Joss Whedon, who put together such nice sandboxes to play in._

* * *

Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter One: Good Glob, I'm A Monster!-**

**-Willow Rosenberg's Basement-**

Cinema Gone Wrong was a long-enduring tradition. Jessie had started it, thoroughly convinced that a terrible movie could be every bit as enjoyable as a good one, and with all the added attraction of being half-price off the racks of Sunnydale's Video Emporium. Willow, Xander and Jessie, three teens on a budget, considered 'cheap' to be an essential quality for any Saturday night's worth of entertainment.

Jessie was gone now, but like many fine traditions, Cinema Gone Wrong had outlived its creator.

"Six String Samurai!" squealed Willow. Xander looked over from his spot on the couch and tried to restrain his laughter. Reason being, that-

"We've held off the apocalypse," he noted from his seat. "I _really_ don't get why you make with the obsession for post-end-of-the-world movies." As he spoke, Willow shimmied backward and out of the crawl space storage with a boxful of VHS tapes. She glanced back, and a hurt look flashed across her face.

"But- Xander! Buddy Holly fights his way across the wartorn wasteland to become the rock king of a dystopian America! You _love _this one. You tried to make a katana in fifth grade-"

"And got suspended for it," agreed Xander cheerfully. "It was an important stage in my life." He frowned, and considered his half-eaten twinkie carefully. "It's just, you know all of these last-minute saves and apocalyptic threats-"

"Yes?"

"The changes to our basic worldview and revelations of things deeper and darker than have any right to exist?"

"Yes?!" He sighed.

"I'm disillusioned, Wills. My times of childish faith are gone. The world I knew has become a thin veneer. I'm overcome with sorrow, emotion-wise," he declared.

"Oh, Xander-"

"Which is why I just can't consider these movies realistic, anymore."

Willow paused, and glanced down at the pile of titles in her hands. It had such classics as "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes", "The Super Mario Brothers", and "Mystery Science Theater, A Reflection".

"Um, Xander, I'm not entirely sure you're _supposed_ to take these seriously-"

"Suspension of disbelief has failed me! The same with television shows. I'm watching primetime television, and all I can think is 'why haven't these idiots been eaten?' or 'walking around like that? Joey and Chandler would have been abducted and sacrificed by demons!'"

Willow frowned, and wondered why her oldest friend considered this an existential crisis on par with opening the Hellmouth. Also, why he was watching _Friends_ in any case.

"So, like with Six String Samurai, I just can't help but wonder, where the hell are the vampires? With the world's governments all collapsed, they don't need to hide. With most of the human race wiped out, they'd end up starving to death anyway!"

"I can see you've put a lot of thought into this, but I'm pretty sure it's exactly the wrong _kind_ of thought."

"You just don't take me seriously." Willow grinned at that.

"Nope. It's just a _story_, Xander. Just... pretend the vampires turned vegetarian, or something. To survive."

"...Vegetarian."

"To survive!" Xander just shook his head in blatant wonder.

"Just... just pop it in." They settled in for the night of bad movies and artery-killing, and pretended there was still a third teenage body to occupy the floor in front and steal popcorn.

**-Two Months Later-**

Ethan's Costumes was full of teenagers trying to get in last-minute shopping. The racks were being scoured and emptied at a rate that delighted the owner of the store in question, and Xander Harris was carefully edging around the store toward the makeup and prosthetics. It was a relatively quiet aisle, since most of the costumes were packaged complete, including makeup and extras. 'Mix-and-match' was a much less popular option, for the majority of Sunnydale's lazy adolescents.

"And you want... Spock ears, young man?" the older British gentleman asked, amusement etched across his features. "I didn't think Vulcans were so popular amongst the younger generation..."

"I am not going as a Vulcan, or an elf, or whatever. I just need generic pointy ears. It's for my costume, to set it apart, a bit."

"And you're going as...?" prompted the proprietor.

"That is a secret. I'm keeping it from my friends as a surprise," admitted Xander. Ethan's eyes sparkled.

"I do love surprises... a spark of chaos does the heart good. But you're _sure_ you couldn't let me in on the secret?" Xander shook his head regretfully.

"The walls have ears, my good sir. Observe." His hand thrust out, into a rack of costumes. There was a loud squeak, and Willow's head poked out from between two, identical witches' dresses.

"You can't keep it a secret forever, mister!" she gasped, oddly out of breath.

"Just until we leave the Buffster's house tonight, bud. Then all will be made clear." He frowned and leaned forward. "You're not getting sick, are you? You look flushed, and I really don't think Snyder will take an excuse for one of us backing out of trick-or-treating patrol tonight..." Willow's head shook.

"No, no, not sick. Could you, ah, let go?" Xander froze, and looked down. His arm disappeared into the rack of costumes below Willow's head, but billows of fabric hid where, exactly, it ended.

"I'm not grabbing your shoulder, am I?" he asked in resignation.

"No!"

"Oh. Let's just... repress this memory forever?" Willow just blushed harder.

"Gah!" He leapt back and shook his hand like it were on fire.

Ethan laughed. He was _really_ looking forward to seeing how tonight panned out.

**-Buffy's House, That Night-**

Willow, Buffy, and Joyce took in the teenage boy with visible confusion. He shrugged at them and grinned, incidentally shifting the fake guitar prop and basketful of apples. Half of the fruits were painted white.

"Alright, I give up," admitted Buffy. "Kurt Cobain impersonating Johnny Appleseed?" That, at least, got a small chuckle out of Joyce Summers. Xander's grin widened until the fake fangs in his mouth flashed visibly. Buffy stiffened at the sight of them like a good little Slayer, but Willow squeaked and moved in closer.

"Oh my gosh, you really did it!" The sheet-clad girl seemed to suffer a small, involuntary nerdgasm.

"Did what? Xander?" prompted the older Summers woman.

"Not tonight, Mrs. Summers," corrected Xander. "Tonight I'm Marshall Lee, a vegetarian vampire fighting and rocking his way across an apocalyptic wasteland."

Buffy's eyeroll was so blatant it should have had a sound effect.

"A vegetarian vampire?" Xander shrugged helplessly.

"Pickings got slim once all the humans mutated into fish and sentient gumdrops," he said, pulling excuses out of his proverbial hat.

**-Later, In The Chaos Of Ethan's Spell-**

"Can't bash monsters, have to listen to some half-baked mutant vamp who can't even _fly_, and taking orders from a hot chick who's too friggin' intangible to put out," summarized Marshall Lee. A quick swing of his guitar knocked back another one of theose half-vamps who might actually be some dumb kid. "This night sucks. You all suck, and I-"

The vampire king cut himself off, and glanced off into the sky, to where it was just visible through one of the higher-up windows. He floated further into the warehouse, and completely ignored the fighting below. The bass guitar was re-settled over his shoulder as he carefully scrutinized the nighttime atmosphere.

His senses were going crazy. He could _feel _the collapsing of a great magical spell. Probably the one that had turned this holiday all kinds of nuts. Outside the window, pint-sized monsters began collapsing in the streets. They were just children again. Human children.

The entire world was full of humans. Monsters too, yes, but only among an abundance of living, breathing, unchanged humans. There was no Land of Aaa. No Mushroom War had ever happened. It was like something out of his earliest memories. Six hundred years of ruin and strife... had simply never happened. Might not happen.

But the dumb little human who'd dared to play pretend as the Vampire King had seen the world nearly end, in entirely different ways. There was a strange kind of bravery in being so absolutely _normal_, and still facing the creatures that prowled the night.

Marshall had been small, and weak, when the world had ended. Even if he'd understood what the planes rumbling overhead had meant, he would have been powerless to do anything.

Carefully, he settled himself in the upper rafters of the building. The nearby pane of glass served his purposes perfectly.

"Alright kid, I'm reasonably sure you're going to remember this," he said to a reflection that was gradually fading into view. The magic was dying, and fast. "I can _feel_ you coming back. I remember your fear, and your helplessness. I know you, Xander Harris. And I apologize. But you need this, and I think you'll remember exactly why."

Without hesitation, he brought his wrist up to his mouth. The hiss was more reflex than anything, when his fangs extended and his eyes widened and turned a deep, blood red.

For the first time in ages, he gave into the vampiric biting instinct completely and without hesitation. The fluid he pulled from his own veins tasted terrible, and it was air-temperature like any other vampire's, but blood was blood and the fugue state was undeniable. Marshall Lee's eyes closed -

-and Xander Harris's eyes opened.

It was like waking from a dream. He'd gone out trick-or-treating with the kids, and then they were monsters, and then _he'd _become...

Oh.

His body was tingling, like it was falling asleep and waking up at the same time. He looked down and, with an audible sucking noise, pulled his wrist away from his mouth. The flesh was pale and raw, chewed into something more like hamburger meat than human skin. The teenager wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't writhing in agony, but a nagging sensation in the back of his head told him about how very unimportant that was, in comparison to the real issues at hand.

He glanced up.

He peered, uncomprehending, at a window pane that clearly reflected the metal beams behind his body. His fingers -the ones not attached to a mangled pile of wrist, anyway- crept upward to the side of his neck. They quested for a pulse, and failed in their search.

Oh.

Even without a heartbeat to drive it, his blood _surged_ with an inhuman steadiness, and blackness came over him.

**-The Highschool Library, The Next Morning-**

Rupert Giles was weary in ways that the average sleepless night just couldn't accomplish. He'd let out a good deal of his temper last night. More, he was uncomfortable to admit, than he'd thought he still possessed.

Ethan always _had_ brought out the worst in him.

The library was quiet, as it always was when he went about his morning rituals. Lights came on in their usual order, and a small stack of texts waited to be resorted. There were cards to refile and swords to be polished - typical librarian's duties.

"Good morning, G-Man. I really hope you've had your morning coffee." Giles, from his place inside the office, rolled his eyes.

"It is entirely too early for you to be at school, Xander. Let alone awake, I expect. What brings you here?" he prompted from his chair.

"It's about last night. Because of that Ethan guy?"

That caught Giles' attention. The hesitancy in the young man's voice was... uncharacteristic, to say the least. And anything left over from one of Ethan's little 'attempts at fun' was sure to require his immediate attention. He'd hoped they'd all get through things relatively unscathed, too, but it seemed too bloody much for him to hope for.

"Are you alright?" he called out, immediately walking out of the office and into the library proper.

"Sort of. Did you know there are tunnels leading right into the school?" asked Xander, still out of sight. Giles turned, trying to follow the source of the voice. "The person... thing... whatever, that I dressed as last night? It turns out he wanted to be _helpful_."

"In what way? And, er, could you please come out?" The librarian-cum-Watcher was beginning to feel distinctly worried.

"I already am. Um, look up?" Giles did so, and let out a curse that would have earned a solid black bar on any cable television show.

"Hey." Xander sat on the ceiling, grey-skinned and dressed in plaid, and strummed a red bass guitar that resembled nothing so much as a battle axe. "I think I pulled a Jessie. Do you have a stake?"

**-Giles's Office-**

The teenager looked miserable. Having assured the librarian that he did not, in fact, want to eat the older man (and had filled up on _apples_ of all things), Giles had felt oddly compelled to invite him... down... into his office. The standard rules of invitations and whatnot that applied to vampires were moot in a public building in any case, and Giles did, in fact, have a thin stake up his sleeve.

"You can drink that?" he asked. Xander looked up from the cup of steaming coffee clenched between his fingers and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. It... it doesn't exactly feel nourishing, or anything, but it's just sort of nice. Like drinking water instead of, well, coffee. It fills you up, but there's nothing _in it._ Or something." One hand went up and brushed through hair that had become even more messy than the mop that usually topped his head. As if it were defying gravity or moving on an unseen wind.

Even grounded, mused Giles, part of the boy obviously still wasn't.

"And you want me to stake you. You are volunteering to be staked." Xander looked up at this and nodded fervently.

"Yeah. Buffy and Willow could come wandering in and see me anytime. They... they shouldn't see me like this. Not like... me. You could tell them I got eaten last night in the confusion, or something." Xander seemed, then, to shrink in on himself. Like he was expecting to be hit.

"Traditionally speaking, Xander, no vampire is willing to be staked. Ever. Especially to spare the feelings of a pair of, ah, teenage girls. What were you dressed as, last night, exactly? Please feel free not to skimp on the details."

And Xander told him.

He told Giles about Marshall Lee, born in the twenty-first century to a demon mother and human father. About the 'Mushroom War', and the madness of his caretaker, Simone Petrikov. About being bitten and marrying into royalty, before slaying his insane bride and keeping his position by bisecting all challengers with a guitar that could cut through steel.

About the Land of Aaa, and the empty human cities that were overtaken by the fantastic and strange wilderness that the Earth had become.

Giles sat there and listened with an odd, horrified wonder. His drink became cold, and was utterly ignored. Finally, exhaustedly, Xander finished.

"And that's... six-hundred years as a nihilistic prankster. Yup."

"I see. Somewhat." Fidgeting madly, Giles wiped his glasses and frowned at his coffee cup. Where had that come from?

_Right,_ he thought. _I brewed that about, good lord, an hour ago?_ A glance at the clock confirmed it. Hurriedly, he tried to focus on the most pertinent details.

"You say you can, that is to say, you can live off feeding on the color red? I don't believe there's ever been a creature that can do such a thing." Xander shrugged, still looking oddly small and withdrawn.

"From what I remember, vampires in Aaa were more magical beings than actual demons. Except for Marshall Lee, who was half of one before he was even turned. Drinking the color red was like... you know Greek gods?" Giles nodded in some amusement, and Xander flushed, somewhat, and seemed to remember just who he was talking to.

"Right. Well, they had sacrifices made to them from bits of animals, or incense. And that, like, stood for the entirety of their believers' harvests. Right?"

"I'm impressed," replied the older man in honest astonishment. "I hadn't thought you'd have drawn a conclusion like that." Xander smiled, showing a single fang. Giles very carefully did not react. That would _not_ help the boys mental state.

"You've had us do enough research sessions that some of it just stuck, I guess. And Marshall was a quiet bibliophile. He had all sorts of pre-war books stashed in his basement." He shook his head. "But yeah. The red is symbolically close enough to blood that it sustains the magic in them... me."

"Then I don't see what the problem is." At that, Xander glanced up in shock and not a little bit of anger.

"I'm a _vampire_. You're a Watcher! I'm sure they mentioned, _somewhere_ in the manual, exactly what comes next-"

"You seem to be in full possession of your faculties, including a rather over-developed conscience. You don't seem to need to actually harm anything to survive - less so, even, than your average vegan, I might add. I don't see why this is a problem."

"The sun still burns me. A stake through the heart-" Giles snorted.

"A stake through the heart would do _me_ in, young man. As for the sun," he shrugged. "That's a bit more tricky. Wear thicker clothing and stay away from windows. Become nocturnal, if you don't want to risk it." The older man leaned forward. "This isn't... this isn't like what happened with Jessie, Xander," he said, remembering the young man's recent words and tough life even before he'd settled into a strange new existence as the ally of a Slayer.

The teenager worried at his lip for some time, before finally seeming to stand a little bit straighter.

"You think so? You actually, honestly think that this will turn out alright?"

"I'm not saying it will be easy, young man, but the best way to go about things would be to-" the man stiffened, and glanced over Xander's shoulder. "-Is to run. Really, _really _fast."

"Demon!"

"Oh shit!"

**-Hours Later, In The Library Proper-**

_Xander's really quite a quick study,_ thought Giles as he worked through a fresh cup of coffee. Tea just didn't seem like it would cut it, today.

At first, Xander had tried to calmly explain things from a position near the ceiling, in a display of how absolutely useful levitation was in a skillset. Then he'd tried to calmly deflect as many projectiles as possible with his battle guitar, while letting anything else stick in the ceiling. Now, he was just letting the various weapons (stakes, swords, and an entire box of pencils) strike the ceiling and had given up deflecting the things entirely. That was a smart move on the young man's part, given that anything deflected back downward was only recycled in the blond Slayer's attempts to perforate him.

"Buffy, stop."

The girl ignored him, and tried to pierce Xander's heart with an almanac. That, Giles was relieved to note, Xander _did _catch. Clever boy, not letting the books get damaged.

"Buffy, you will stop trying to destroy my library and kill your friend this very instant!" Finally, it seemed that Giles had gotten through to the young woman. She paused, midway through throwing an encyclopedia, and glared back at him.

"Xander's a demon!"

"Xander still has feelings!" shouted down the young man in question. "I thought we were friends, Buffy. You're being very intolerant of my disability!"

"Disability?! You're a flying vampire thing!" At that, Giles stepped in, again.

"One that helped protect you and the others all last night, even while he was, ah, 'in character'," the man pointed out helpfully.

"I'm still a good guy! My costume was a good guy!" Xander frowned, and considered his last statement. "Okay, he was sort of a dick sometimes, but who isn't?!"

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_-Author's Note-_

_So there it is, the first chapter to my first fanfiction. This'll be a three-parter, I believe. Like any good author, I hope that you all tell me exactly where I went wrong or what I managed to do right. I'm aware that I don't exactly have a beta or anything, so input would be very helpful, at this point._

_I plan on putting out a chapter of something or other every week, to keep myself in practice. And, of course, to keep you entertained!_

_Incidentally, "Six String Samurai" is a highly amusing B-movie that I suggest to any and all of my readers. It is exactly as good as Willow describes it!_


	2. To-Do List For Eternity

_-Author's Note-_

_Half an hour into this story, and I'm already getting reviews! I've obviously stumbled upon a very undernourished niche. Very much so, since I think this is the first story in the entire section..._

_My thanks to any and everyone who reviewed. I hope you like this chapter - the next couple (I could swear this was only going to be a three-parter when I started...) are going to be clips of Xander Lee and how his, um, change in circumstances effect events in the Buffyverse. Only actual changes will be shown - nobody needs another series rehash. I'd save that depth of detail for any _truly_ alternate universes, where everything and anything has gone to hell on a butterfly's wing. As it is, most of the action in Mister Whedon's universe comes from the outside world. That is, the protagonists are mostly just reacting to the weekly outside dangers._

_Really, one event in Sunnydale isn't likely to change the appearance of every outside danger and new character ever, and the nostalgia value of having the judge show up in every other fanfic wears thin, fast._

_Finally - I update my current story every Monday, every week. I'm setting this as a concrete schedule. If I throw up anything else as a bonus, I'll be sure to post a warning!_

_Speaking of which - I won't be one of those evil, evil women who withhold material if I don't get reviews, but if I get 100, I _will_ throw up a one-shot, revolving around any 'most suggested' idea._

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Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter Two: To-Do List For Eternity-**

**-Corner Of The Highschool Library-**

The week since Xander's change had been one of experimentation. Not so much with his new form ("experimenting with my new body" was a phrase he'd only been stupid enough to use in front of the girls just once), but more in trying to _cover up_ said form.

Thick-enough makeup didn't exist, Buffy had informed him, that wouldn't make him look like some sort of Ken doll gone wrong. Not without the costume budget of your average movie producer, at least. His fangs showed whenever he opened his mouth, and weren't retractable. Finally, it seemed, he'd found a pragmatic reason to envy Angel. That broody corpse only had to deal with being pale and insufferable.

The weakness to sunlight was almost as big a problem - again, makeup would have to be caked thicker than engine grease. They didn't allow hats in school - and _all_ of the classrooms had windows.

It wasn't like he had a special love for education, but it was such a _normal _part of human existence, and it kept him out of the house for a good third of his life, that the thought of not being able to go back pained him. So far, he'd managed an entire week of hiding in the library, and pretended to have every period as an open study. Giles apparently had an uncanny kind of radar when it came to their new principal, Snyder, and gave Xander enough warning that the teenager was always able to flee on sight.

Willow had tried to be the responsible friend and bring in his homework, but less and less of it got done as the days passed. One of the corner desks had been labeled his "study area", but it was rapidly becoming a kind of textbook graveyard.

"I think you might have been right," said Xander to Giles. It was early evening, and Buffy was on one of her early patrols. The Watcher obviously had the good sense to try to vary the times and locations that the girl would cover on her patrols, thus keeping the local night crawlers off of their games. Xander really admired the man in those moments, when you could see the Brit's clever side outshine his booksmarts (which was no mean feat).

"About what, precisely?" Giles was looking through a modified Vampire Hunter's Compendium, which he'd told Xander held notes on the rare _clever_ tactic, used by the rare _clever _vampire, looking to avoid detection. Obviously the man had never intended to reverse the practices and actually apply them from the night-stalkers' end of things, but there you were.

"Going nocturnal. I don't think these other ideas are going to work. Speaking practically it's a bad idea, and I look just plain goofy in a hat." Giles actually nodded at this before grimacing.

"I really wish you wouldn't bring that point up like it were a final decider..." he glanced up at the new vampire's face and snorted. "Bloody teenagers."

"What can I say?"

"Too much, too often, and for the express purpose of taking the piss out."

Xander grinned and pulled a small notebook out of his bag. He began scribbling in earnest. The Watcher's curiosity was peaked.

"Any new ideas?"

"For slang - some of your Britishisms totally pants what we of the Western continent have come up with." His eyes darted up and glittered. "You come from a fine culture, my distant cousin. We have much to learn." He returned his attention back to the paper, and painstakingly, out loud, wrote. "Taking - the - piss - out."

"I'm going to let Buffy use you as target practice again," mumbled Giles in a way that was meant to be overheard by supernatural senses. "But back to before - you are, ah, quite certain?" Xander shrugged uncomfortably.

"Yeah. This is the best that we can come up with," he gestured to the scattered notes on the table, "and it sucks. Not that I don't appreciate the help G-Man, but we just don't have much to work with." Irritation became frustration, and his fingers buried themselves in his hair.

"This isn't my fault. I _know_ it isn't. But, Glob, I swore I wouldn't end up as a dropout." He looked at Giles pleadingly. "I didn't think I'd make college, but, but I just-" Suddenly he noticed himself hovering, and gracelessly dropped back into his seat. "Hell, it's just like the old man said."

Giles began to pace. Buffy was bad enough, but regardless of whatever else she felt about her tasks, he knew she thrived on the fact that being a Slayer gave her direction. It was something every adolescent craved. The course of an entire lifetime could be set by exactly what influenced a young person when they were at their most vulnerable. Drugs, black magic... it was even worse for those exposed to what existed on the fringe of normality.

_God only knows I had my own fair share of bad starts... _he thought.

"Not all of us are meant to be normal, Xander." This got him a derisive snort, but he plowed onward. "Not everyone goes from kindergarten to college and settles down behind a white picket fence. Honestly, I never took you to be so... so _boring._"

_That_ did it. He had the boy's attention. Now, to make use of the opening and try not to bollocks it all up.

"If you want an education, which I do encourage, personally, then even Sunnydale has night courses." At a well-lit, nearby college which was just distant enough from the hellmouth that it could be considered worthwhile. "Working around your disadvantages, and working with your advantages, too, does not make you a failure. If it was, I'd have been a very dead sort of upstart Black Mage."

"What? I mean... what?" echoed Xander stupidly. "Like Ethan Rayne?" Giles nodded sharply.

"We were running buddies, back in England. Back when I was stupid, and when I was a very dangerous person to know. One way or the other, I was graced with uncommon skills and I, I _abused _them. I let my anger dictate my actions. I was... I was nowhere near the person that you are, Xander. I think you can do better."

"Yeah? I mean, you do?" Xander's eyes seemed... starving, to Giles. How little positive attention did the young man get, anyway?

"I do," he replied firmly. "More than that, I think you're forgetting how capable you are. Pick up your guitar, would you?" The red, gleaming instrument never strayed far from Xander's hand. He strummed the thing when he was nervous, or frustrated. It was in his hands in a second.

"Okay?" Giles nodded approvingly.

"Obviously it has an edge on it..." he prompted.

"It's a modified battle axe. A family heirloom of Marshal Lee's, I, uh, he kept it with him for all the time he was wandering. Around Aaa, and the wastelands beyond."

"A fine weapon, if a bit unorthodox. He fought with it often?"

"Um, yes?"

"Good," replied Giles, and brought up a sword from under the table. "Defend yourself!"

**-Outside The Highschool-**

Buffy wasn't entirely sure _why _she let the others come with on patrols, sometimes. It was a pain, and it meant more warm bodies to keep an eye on. On the other hand, it felt comfortingly normal. Willow's quizzing her on chemistry while she fought fledgelings was surreal as hell, but it was still comforting.

Also, though she hated to admit it, they'd actually covered her back once or twice. Whether she would have needed it without them there distracting her she couldn't say, but still.

Tonight, though, Willow had been hardly able to concentrate at all. That was probably for the same reason Buffy had taken twice as long with the hunting party of vamps earlier - they were worried about Xander. Walking Willow home had been an exercise in distraction.

Everyone in the 'Scooby' group had been injured. Sometimes badly, even, but this was more permanent. In a way, his change was more disturbing than even death might have accomplished. Mourning him dying would have been terrible, but natural. Mourning someone who was still (somewhat) alive only seemed to make the new, pseudo-vampire depressed.

_I'm pretty sure I'm the only Slayer to ever have to put up with this wierd crap. I deserve a medal, or a prize, or something. Maybe a cake. Wasn't mom baking today?_

Buffy's thoughts had wandered, so it was no wonder that only the sound of clashing weapons from within the library snapped her back to reality. She rushed the doors, only to freeze at the entrance.

Xander was ten feet off the floor, brandishing his axe. That didn't seem to be helping as much as it should, since Giles had taken to the table tops and was waving a silvery blade upward. The floating teenager glanced at the Slayer.

"Buffy, save me! The crazy old bastard's gone crazy!"

"Old bastard, am I?!" Giles struck again, only to have the sword turned away and struck to the floor. Xander's axe was frozen at his neck, and Buffy was about to step in on things, before the Brit laughed.

"Six centuries of fighting experience, indeed!" He craned his neck to take in Buffy's gaping face. "Congratulations, Buffy. You have a patrol partner."

"What?" It was only one word, but it was echoed by two teenagers.

**-The Teacher's Parking Lot-**

It hadn't taken much to convince Buffy that Xander could get home just fine on his own, but the young man had taken off after Giles instead immediately after the 'little confrontation' in the library.

"And here I thought you always wanted to help out more," mused Giles. In his annoyance, Xanders feet had simply tucked up and he now skimmed over the ground. It was an increasingly common habit of his, mused the Watcher.

"Of course I did! Do. I do. Giles, what was that?"

"Would you say that a, um, 'Vampire King' would be at least the equal of a master vampire of the more common variety, Xander?"

"Yeah, sure. Now make with the 'splainy!"

"You were more or less bitten by a very old and powerful vampire, Xander," remarked Giles. "That makes for a very strong fledgeling. And some of those demonic traits, too, stayed with you? If I'm not mistaken."

"Got it in one," said Xander sulkily.

"So you've got the skills, and the experience, and the will. I for one will feel much better if Buffy has a few more trustworthy fighters out there." Xander gnawed his lip, and nodded.

"Yeah, I get that. Crazy scary demonstrations aside, I get that." Giles chuckled.

"My apologies, my dear boy. I wanted an honest fighter's reaction out of you. Well, I got it." Giles opened the door to his outdated metal monstrosity (a classic car, he'd always insist), and glanced at Xander impatiently. "Are you coming or not?"

"Huh?" The young man frowned in confusion. "I can fly home, Giles. No offense to your... vehicle, and all, but I think I'd prefer it."

Giles clenched his hands and lowered his head. He really hadn't to want to say things outright, but it would be foolish to let this go on.

"You haven't been home all week, Xander. Buffy found a bundle of Hawaiian shirts and a crate of Twinkies in a crypt. I can only assume that this was your first idea for where a 'vampire' should go, and not a particularly well thought-out one. I'm honestly unsure of where you keep finding clean plaid shirts, and why you brought those other eyesores with you when you found your way to Greenward Cemetary."

"G-Man..."

"Nobody has called, Xander. Nobody has called the police, for all the good that would do in _this_ town. Nobody has questioned." He caught Xander's eye. "You deserve better than to stay where you wouldn't be missed."

"Don't be embarassed for their sakes, Xander," he added, heading off the first argument. Xander countered with the second.

"You don't need to put yourself out like that. I don't need much, anymore."

"Precisely. It shouldn't be a bother to me, and I could honestly use the company." He could see Xander trying to find a third argument.

"Now I'll admit the attic is small (a lie), a bit dusty (another lie), and tends to be draughty (not quite a lie, but then Xander didn't feel the cold as he once did), but if it's not too little to offer..." Downplay what you offered, Glies knew, and it seemed much less like charity. A teenager's pride was a predictable thing.

"Not too small, right? I need somewhere to hang my bass..."

**-Weeks Later, Living Room Of Giles' Home-**

The thing with Ford had not been fun, Xander admitted. Buffy's old friend had turned out to be an ass, and on top of that had declared Xander to be a hypocrite.

"You have all the time in the world! You can't take this from me!"

_Surly bastard._ Xander was immature, he knew. Marshall Lee's memories had been... extensive. Six hundred years as a teenager meant being a teenager for a really freaking long time! Wisdom, no matter how hard-earned, had always been filtered through the mouth of an immortal punk rocker. The result was... interesting, to say the least.

A scratchy noise issued from Giles' tape deck, and Xander let off on the 'play' button. The Beatles began another playthrough, and his fingers began following along on their own.

The music was another thing. Nobody lived that long without having some sort of major crutch or obsession, and Xander felt he'd lucked out. Music was _wonderful_. Now that he could pick out chords and refrains with an expert ear, each song became something to critique, disect and love.

The vampires of that strange, other Earth hadn't been like the homebrewed variety, to be certain. While the ones Xander was used to were born monsters, and demons of the most base, animal sort, the ones from his pilfered memories weren't much better.

Time had a way of making you cruel and apathetic, if you didn't have something to hold onto. Hunger sped up the transformation. You just had to make things matter to you, more. Friends, art, whatever.

That tactic would not have worked with an undead Ford. He had started out desperate, ready to sacrifice any number of others to escape death.

Xander's mind stretched back, far back through years he'd never lived. He remembered Simone, back when she was sane and, it seemed at the time, happy. She'd told him all sorts of stories, and sung him songs. She'd been as well-read as Giles, but even still she must have made up many of them on the spot.

One story she'd told him often (since little Marshall had always wanted to hear it, again and again) had dealt with the devil. Three times, men came seeking power and wealth and happiness beyond what they had. The first had begged, and gotten a taste of his dreams come true. But the devil had taken it back, for nothing given freely was ever really yours.

The second had traded his own immortal soul for his wealth and power, but without a soul he could not taste his fine foods, nor delight in the games his wealth had bought him. He had sought to trade it back, but received only half his soul in return for all of his new finery. The devil had known how much less worth gold had than a soul, and the man had lived on to taste only half of his food, and take half as much delight in things that had once brought him pleasure.

The last man was different. He had demanded the entire world from the devil. The devil had asked him why he should have anything, and the man proclaimed that he would fight for it. The devil agreed, and gave the man all the world. Every day from then on, he would dine and laugh and play to his heart's content. When evening fell, the devil came forth and they fought. Every time, the devil offered to raise the stakes and grant the man perfect health forever, but the man refused.

Finally, once the man turned one-hundred, his strength failed him, and the devil felled him in battle. Before striking the final blow, the devil had asked why the man had refused the health and eternal life offered him.

I die owing you nothing, said the man. I fought for everything given to me, using only what I had, which was myself. If I had fought with the vitality you gave me, I would be living on time borrowed from you, and owe you everything.

The man in the story had died free and happy.

Ford had died owing what wasn't his to give (Buffy and those stupid cultists), and had earned nothing for it (from Spike, who made a decent devil for comparison). It seemed fitting, in Xander's mind.

Life wasn't like fairy tales though, not really. Case in point, instead of a 'happily ever after', the group only got one depressed Slayer.

Then came the business with Eyghon - it was different hearing that Giles had a shady past, and then having it literally come after him. Quick thinking on Willow's part had killed the damned thing, but Giles was still shaken.

Xander supposed that seeing one's ladyfriend demonify and try to eat/seduce you could do that to a guy.

One especially loud chord during _"She Loves You"_ earned him a groan from the lump on the couch.

"You're awake! Good to see you alive, G-Man." The Brit groggily picked his glasses up from the floor.

"S'cause you woke me. Damn it, Xander, it's only -" Giles sought out vainly for a clock.

"Noon, just about. Excessive drinking, sleeping in... You really expect to be able to lecture Buffy about this sort of thing?" Giles just cradled his head in response.

"Gah'ng... Thank you for getting me home. Did we... did we fly?" Xander grinned.

"You puked while we were over a lawn party. It was pretty graphic."

"Oh god."

The englishman wandered into the kitchen, and didn't come back until he had finished off half a pot of tea and Xander had moved on to _"Eight Days a Week"._ The remaining tea had gone into two cups.

"It's an orange-ginger mix. I think you can stomache it," replied the Watcher before Xander could decline. A glance down confirmed that the liquid was indeed a kind of dark red color. Xander savored it, sifting it in his mouth and through his fangs. What trickled down his throat was as colorless as water, but it was warm, and settled happily in his belly.

"I'm sorry for last night. I was just-"

"Mourning some friends, I know." Xander waved off the man's concern. "I hope you don't mind me roughing up Ethan-"

"-Before I got my chance in?" queried Giles, taking his turn at cutting in. "You deserved it. And you had a much better line than I had planned, honestly"

"You did this to me! Look at what I've become!" thundered Xander, and broke into cackles. "I think the transformed face and fangs were what really set the guy off."

"My kingdom for a camera."

They settled into silence, and "_Hey Jude"_ came on.

"Nice piece. You know, though, it was really Marshall Lee that left me like this." Xander looked up at Giles's contemplative face. "He was sort of freaked when he saw how close the world came to ending. It's not like what he called the Great Mushroom War -awesome name, by the way- but it struck close to home. He wanted me to have an advantage."

"He was right, in a way," said Giles. "It's not quite as if he could have asked permission-"

"I get that. I _understand_ him. I was the only person he ever actually turned, you know. Real or fantasy, he felt like it was changeing his own past. Fixing mistakes he couldn't have on his own. I mean really, timeline-wise, he wouldn't have even been born for another few decades." Xander strummed the axe. "I can't blame him, I guess."

"It's what everyone really wants, I suppose. To make everything that went wrong... just not happen. The question then, I suppose, is do you think you can live up to that?"

What a question! How can one guy in all the world expect to change things?

_Wait..._ he thought. _One in all the world. Damn, I think I'm really starting to feel for the Buffster here._

_I'm not in Marshall's position. By which I mean, I don't _have_ a position. No throne for this king of cretins. No authority, or power, title or wealth._

"Pshh. Please. What do I have to work with?" A bleary and slightly hungover Giles gave him a deadpan stare.

"That is a very silly question. You have a great deal. Buffy startled with a bundle of confusing instincts and a hair-trigger temper. Now she's-" The man paused, and tried to come up with something to add to that.

"You made the best point in the worst way possible, Giles. As much as we all love the girl..."

"Quite right. Er..."

"But it _is_ a good point. I just have to-"

_To..._

_Demand the world from the devil, and fight to keep it every step of the way._

"It strikes me, right in my heartguts-" Giles gave him an odd stare, there. "I'm overcome by feelings, Giles. Emotional feelings, even. I'm a king without subjects. And my crazy, bloodsucking, crazy-violent brethren need guidance."

"Pardon?"

* * *

_-Author's Note-_

_You guys have been kind, encouraging, and just a bit pervy with your reviews (nothing to be ashamed of!), and I thank you! As you can see, this chapter is out quite a bit earlier than I thought it would be, but that's just how it goes when you're writing, I guess. I've got vague outlines for this story, and some wierd concepts I want to try to fit in, but this is going to be a true crossover, given time. Yes, you'll see the Adventure Time crew (or at least the alternate cast out of the Ice King's creepy imaginings), and in a logical (for a fantasy story) way._

_As for romance? And don't deny it, I know you guys are asking questions or making filthy, filthy innuendo - that'll come with time. Neither of these shows has characters that can ignore the singing of their heartguts for long, after all._

_Next chapter, um, chapterS, will be much more action-packed. I'm picturing beheadings a-plenty in the near future._

_See you next week!_


	3. A Vampire King's Modest Kingdom

_-Author's Note-_

_A lot of the events in this story will be moving parallel to the normal events of the Buffy series. This chapter especially is a look at Xander Lee's actions occuring concurrently with the rest of the Scoobys' lives, but rarely really intersecting._

_Thank you for the reviews, so far! I try to respond to the signed ones, or at least any that are more comprehensive than 'cool!' or 'please continue'. Though even those are appreciated, and it's been great reading them all._

_Now, I promised you all beheadings, so..._

Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter Three: A Vampire King's Modest Kingdom-**

**-Sunnydale Warehouse District-**

Xander stretched and let his neck _crack_, sighing with relief. The head balanced on his bass axe wobbled and fell, before it and the body crumpled below it vanished into dust.

Patrolling with Buffy had been one thing. Patrolling alone had been another. This, though, was a real change of pace. Here, he was trying to accomplish something more than staving off a few lone demons or denying the occasional, random vampire his or her evening meal.

"I'll just repeat myself, for all the bad little students who weren't paying attention. I'm Xander Lee, the Vampire King. You can choose to be my subjects, and abide by my rules, or you can end up like that guy. The one waiting for a hoover vacuum, there."

The nestful of vampires glanced down at the dust pile, then up at the floating figure with a blood-red guitar. One particularly brave one spoke up.

"What are the rules, then?" Xander broke into a grin.

"Glad you asked! That makes you administrator material, if you survive." Xander pulled out a sheaf of paper he'd xeroxed in Giles's office.

"Rule one, I am the king. If you want to be the king, and decide policy, you have to kill me." He felt a small thrill as he said this. It felt right. More than that, he was capable of backing up his words, these days. So far, though, the gathered vampires seemed nonplussed.

"Rule two, no murder. Killing the innocent is taboo, and anyone guilty of this crime is dusted. No questions. Turning the unwilling counts as murder."

There was a short flurry of activity as half of those assembled decided he was either too crazy to be allowed to live, or they didn't want to live by his rules, or they had simply stopped listening after the first rule and wanted to take his place. Those vampires rushed him, and the bass strings of his axe _thrummed_ as the instrument swept through the air and through several necks.

"Alright, then. Rule number three. Any member of my kingdom who distinguishes themselves," Giles had helped him with the wording, a bit, and Xander had liked the sound of it, "in defending the world and enforcing the rules of the vampire kingdom, may be granted status as members of my royal court."

He paused a moment, to see if anyone was stupid enough to raise another stink, and continued, "Those are all the rules in place for the vampire kingdom at this time. Any questions?"

There were plenty. Among them ranked his favorites: Who the hell are you? What do we do for food? What do we get out of this? How the hell can you fly?

The answers were easy, or at least rehearsed enough to _sound_ easy: I'm Xander Lee, your king. Buy it. I don't kill you. Because I am hell of awesome.

Xander knew what he was doing, for the most part. He was expecting to fail miserably in his search for subjects, but he was _hoping_ to have a little luck. So far he'd killed the stupidly violent and violently stupid. What he had left were the meek, clever, or outrageous liars. That would be winnowed down further. Some would try to run or cheat as soon as his back was turned. Others would bide their time until they got the chance to take his head, and he would give them that chance.

In both this world and in Marshall's, vampires of all varieties admired strength. Flunkies flocked to master vampires naturally. Some, plainly enough, weren't all that bad for soulless monstrosities. Those ones weren't good, per se, but they were reasonable. He could work with that.

"The night is young, and I'll be leaving soon, guys." There were five left. "We'll meet back here next Monday, with whoever else I'm convinced doesn't need killing. If any of you are convinced you can avoid me finding and killing you if you don't show or if I catch you breaking the rules, you're welcome to try."

**-Third Stop Of The Night-**

The next two nests (which were depressingly easy to find. Seriously. Was it laziness? Stupid arrogance?) went much the same way. One had eight survivors by the end of his schtick, the other had only two lonely, still-walking vampires.

The stop after that had actually provided a variation on his little questions and answers routine.

"Aren't you one of that Slayer's friends? What's to stop her from killing us no matter what you say?"

_Impressive - no one's really recognized me, _he thought. The skin, ears and fangs had made him unrecognizable to anyone who hadn't known him. Not to mention, he was well aware that he'd always been sort of a bit-player in Sunnydale's circles.

That whole "letting the mortal enemies of humanity live" thing was still in the works. The details were fuzzy, and admittedly would need some serious thinking-over. Giles had been more wary about that bit than about any other.

To say the least, a 'kingdom', of sorts, of tamed vampires set the man's teeth on edge. The only thing that had the man even _remotely_ agreeing to play confidant for Xander's planning, had been the expected body count. He'd killed more than he'd hoped and fewer than he'd expected. Nearly twenty dead out of thirty-four. That was... a lot. That was a slow week's-worth of effort from Buffy in the space of hours.

But for the present, he had to say _something_.

"Following the first two rules keeps me from killing you. Follow the third rule, and I _protect _you. Playing the good guys is civil service. It's not like most, or any of you really, pay taxes anymore."

Two more decided they'd rather be dust.

"Alright then! I feel good about this." He repeated the end of his previous spiel, and gave the address for the first nest he'd stopped at in tonight's journey.

He hefted his axe and went skyward. It was nearly dawn, and the horizon was just turning pink. Time to head back to Giles', and to catch up on his daywalking friends' activities.

**-The Highschool Library-**

"This is so stupid. No offense, guys, but this is exceedingly stupid." And of course, no matter how much he believed his own words, he immediately took them back. Willow seemed on the verge of tears, for one thing.

"I just, um, I wanted you to remember that you can still do things, anything, 'cause just because you've changed, and you're not going to school-"

"No, no! It's fine. I'll fill out the test right away. It should be... interesting, I guess, to see what I get out of it." Some kind of interesting, at any rate.

He took the bootleg, standardized test (a kind of contradiction he expected from his goody-twoshoes, computer-hacking bestest bud) and laid it out on the table.

And regardless of how badly he usually bombed these things, he hadn't expected to to be stumped by the first question.

_Name?_

He was born Alexander Lavelle Harris, answered to Xander, been Marshall for four hours, and introduced himself to every one of his prospective subjects as "Xander Lee". That had been as much a joke as anything else, but it was appealing. It felt so for more than one reason, too- he'd never been happy to claim to be related to any of the Harris family. "Alexander" was just so damn stuffy. It was a name that deserved to be taken down a couple of syllables, in his opinion. Xander was a good name. It's how his friends knew him, which suited him just fine.

He wasn't who he had been anymore - that's for sure. And he was a lot more Marshall, now, than he was Xander. Sometimes. Maybe.

More than the sum of his parts. Sort of like his uncle had once described a car. Well, no need to mess with a good thing...

_Xander Lee_, he wrote. And continued.

**-Between Sunnydale High And Sunnydale's Uptown-**

It wasn't like Xander and Angel hadn't spoken since Halloween. They'd both had Buffy's back ever since. Angel had personally met Marshall Lee, and loath though Xander was to admit it, had been the one to convince the vampire king that Willow's words about the monsters only being cursed children were true.

Yet meeting with him was still every bit as awkward as it had been when Xander had been counted among the living.

"You know, it's expected that the Slayer ends up as the favorite boogeyman of the undead, wherever she's called into existence," said the oh-so-broody vampire with a soul. "But the rumors about one 'Xander Lee, vampire king' have been spreading faster than the plague."

"Which you'd remember, of course," quipped Xander.

"That's right," said Angel, not falling to the bait. "Though to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what, exactly, you're doing. It's like, you're following typical master vampire behavior and picking up thralls, but then you're laying out more rules than the usual 'do what I say'. Rule number two is my favorite, to be honest." Xander sighed.

"You've run into some of my... subjects, then?" he asked.

"Something like that. I walk into Willy's, for a friendly pint with a half-demon who sometimes passes through town, when one of those halfwits sees me and panics. He knows I know the Slayer, obviously, and he knows you know her. Except," Angel says, cutting himself off, "I wasn't aware that anyone knew you. So he looks at me, looks down at his mug, and says, 'It's pig's blood. I'm following the rules, yeah?'".

"Huh," said Xander intelligently. "Did you, um, catch his description?"

"Brunette. Five-ten, tiny studs in his ear."

"That's Eric, I think. I wasn't really going for names, to be honest..." he caught himself, and took in Angel's expression. "Giles knows what I'm doing. It might make things easier for Buffy," he offered, bringing up their one common bond. Angel just frowned and shook his head in dog-like irritation.

"What exactly are you up to, Harris? You're getting in deep."

"That's _Lee_, Liam." He rolled his eyes at Angel's shocked expression. "Yes, I've read the Watcher diaries. Seems like required reading for a vampire on the light side, right?"

"I should let Buffy know."

"You won't." At Angel's quizzical air, he added, "You're as curious about what I'm doing as anyone. You know I've always had the Buffster's back." Xander let his fingers caress the bass. "To be honest, you're as curious about how this is going to turn out as I am."

"You don't have a plan?!" Xander scoffed.

"Of course I do. There's a madness to my method, you brooding bastard. Unlike you, I plan on keeping myself _entertained_ in my glorious undeath." He didn't let any uncertainty show, and had to satisfy himself with drawing a disbelieving shake of the head from Angel.

"If this hurts Buffy-"

"Then rule one will take care of things before you can- that's _my _favorite rule."

**-Hideout Of William The Bloody, Alias "Spike"-**

"A prison guard. Can you believe that? If Willow were ever wrong, I'd claim she made a mistake."

Drusilla craned her neck back and smiled back at him as well as she could, given that the bridge of Xander's bass was garroting her throat.

"The inmates have switched places with the keepers. The asylum is still chugging along, isn't it just?" She simpered. "My Spikey would be king, you see. But his mind wanders."

"Does it. Wow. Let's see how far it wanders from the stump of his neck."

"You're mean."

"You let her go right now, you floating ponce! You think you've grown a pair?" Spike was in rare form, tonight. Only Xander (who was occupied), Kendra and possibly Giles were in fighting condition, but he hoped the Watcher stayed back with the others. Willow and Cordelia shouldn't be going without someone to watch their backs.

Buffy was tending to Angel, who looked like death warmed over (ha!). Willow was with Cordelia and Giles. Or at least, she was with Giles - Cordelia was standing with her back to a corner, clenching a stake and anxiously muttering about "bugmen". There was a story he'd have to get, later. Who'd have thought Queen C could take out an assassin on her own?

No time to let his mind wander, though, Xander knew. There was still Spike, and the walking wounded in the Scoobys' own group, and a growing fire-

Oh, hell. When did that maniac start a fire?

Xander sent Drusilla on her way with a swift boot to the head, and swooped after Spike. Kendra, delightful psychopath that she was, seemed to think that Xander had the right idea and lay her own boot to the peroxide wonder's head. The vampire came down, and so did Xander's bass.

One strike to the spine, one to each kneecap, and a final one swept toward the neck before Xander found himself tumbling through the air and into some rubble.

Drusilla, apparently _much _better off than she'd been before Spike's little ritual, had come up behind him. Xander watched in pained shock as the loopy woman backhanded Kendra, and swept up her beau with one arm.

"Come, Spikey! We mustn't forget the first rule..."

"How did you know about rule one?!" coughed Xander. Damn, but that woman was creepy.

And she knew how to make an exit, if the burning wreckage that filled in her exit path was any indication.

"What is rule one?" asked Kendra, offering him a hand.

_That's a huge step up from her trying to kill me,_ he admitted privately. Hoping to encourage this newfound kindness, he accepted gratefully.

"Rule one? I'm the king." He flashed her a grin. To his _immense_ satisfaction, she looked away coyly.

"That seems an odd rule."

"I am very odd." They began walking back toward the rest of the group.

"It is true, then, that you do not need blood to survive?"

"I prefer strawberries. I know this one place, if you're feeling hungry-"

"Perhaps I shouldn't... my Watcher, Mister Zabuto always taught, that, um..."

"Your watcher doesn't like chocolate fondue?" She looked at him confusedly.

"I tried to have your friend incinerated, earlier. I left him in the sun." Kendra glanced over at Angel's bloodied, weary form.

"He's... sort of a friend. Except I don't really like him, or have a stake in his survival, y'know?" At her quirked eyebrow he continued, "I'm complicated."

"Did you say chocolate?"

**-Sunnydale's Warehouse District-**

Xander sat, sharpening and tuning his axe. It was well past sunset, and he was beginning to get a little disappointed. The place was empty, so far.

The Order Of Teriyaki (as he insisted on calling the group of ancient assassins, since intentionally mispronouncing words sent Willow into adorable conniptions) had been that week's big business, but he hadn't forgotten his pet project. His friends were safe and sound, Kendra had left on good terms with the Sunnydale group, and Angel was nursing a holy water-induced hangover. Life was good.

But it could be better...

On cue, two separate doors opened. Whoever was entering the rear entrance was keeping quiet, but up ahead he heard voices.

"Are you sure this is the place?"

"I remembered. I used to work here when I was alive."

"Really? You, shuffling boxes. That's a sight."

Fifteen figures shuffled in, separate or in groups. Xander heard another five or so coming around from the rear offices. Excellent.

"Twenty...one, of you," he said, taking in the entire group. "Only two missing. Another five I caught going back to bad habits over the last week. Some of the rest of you have been doing the same, and I'll eventually catch you. Nothing to be ashamed of, really. Some people just don't adapt too well. I don't blame you."

_The hell I don't. Welcome to my one step program, leeches._

"That's rule two out of the way. Anyone questioning rule one?" Evidently not - the quick note about "bad habits" had a couple of them trading nervous glances. He made a note of the faces and moved on.

"Cool. All of our meetings should be this painless. Now, did anyone give rule three a go? No?" The silence stretched on. "Well, maybe next time. Now, any petitions to be brought before your king?" He was met by a round of blank stares.

"Y'know. Questions, requests? I'll only kill you if they're _really_ stupid."

"Are you even a vampire?" That was from one of the shifty-looking ones. Okay. This was what Xander had been stealing himself for these last few days. His memories as a human left him repulsed by the idea, but it was a common tactic even among this variety of vampires, as Giles's files confirmed. Marshall Lee would have approved.

He blurred. Faster than anyone could react, he wove through the crowd without touching a single figure, before he reached the dissenter and _grabbed._ One arm locked, head twisted back, and he let his fangs sink in.

It was... unpleasant. Like stale bread. This was not living blood, and would _not_ give him a taste for the stuff.

He breathed a sigh of relief into the crook of the bastard's neck (which would undoubtedly only freak the group out further), and released him. The vampire collapsed and began crawling away, gibbering with fear.

_Hello, predator? You'll be playing the part of prey, tonight. We hope you don't mind,_ he mused. Xander straightened, and performed a slow turn to take in the entire crowd that he'd found himself in the middle of.

"To answer your question, I'm more vampire than you can handle."

**-Kitchen Of The Giles Household-**

Xander's favorite Watcher had taken up one corner of the kitchen, facing the vampire who was more or less slumped over half of the small table. A bowl of shrunken, pale pomegranates had been shoved to one side. He'd been worn-out enough that he hadn't bothered to actually eat the things.

"So, Xander. How exactly does this project of yours proceed? While I can't deny that the side benefits, that is to say slightly quieter patrols and an upswing in the local butchers' side business, I'm still not entirely certain what you're looking to do, here." Xander lifted his head and smiled blearily.

"Tell me. What makes vampires monsters?" Giles scoffed.

"If this is the lead-in to some particularly clever point you're making, I've got to say you're off to a shakey start." Xander tried to shrug, reconsidered the effort, and settled for shaking his head.

"For serious. I mean, vampires need blood. Whatever. Vegetarians are a minority, right? But even the hungriest barbecue chef will take a salad before he starts thinking, 'hey, Jim there looks like he'd make a nice side of bacon.'" Giles shrugged.

"Vampires aren't really human. My father served in the jungle campaigns before becoming a watcher. He claimed monkey made for a fair repast when the company was going on short rations." Xander snickered.

"Didn't need to know that, G-Man." He peered disappointedly into the bowl, and sighed. "Glob, but I miss Twinkies. Food dye just doesn't work on them too well, y'know?"

"They're mostly artificial to begin with, I suspect." Xander didn't bother defending this point. It was true, and he was proud of the fact.

"Vampires are logical,"Xander interposed. "When they're not stupid, I mean. You don't need a conscience to see good sense. Unless they're angry or hungry or... um, right. Switching trains of thought, there. They keep their memories after they turned. What makes them break old human habits?" Giles frowned.

"It's likely the hunger. The, ah, freedom in no longer feeling _guilt._ As I recall, Spike was an unsuccessful poet before he was turned, but that may only be rumor."

"Ha!"

"Yes, quite," quipped Giles with a smile. "Honestly, though, it varies. It depends on how strong the convictions of the living were before they were turned. How much they enjoyed their mortal lives, even. Angel, when he was first turned, went after his own family and friends immediately. Others have avoided their old circles entirely. Whether out of some lingering compassion or a distaste for such reminders of their once-mortal selves, who can say?"

"In the end, though, the main difference is that they are all psychopaths, to some extent or another."

"...Huh. I'm gonna have to think on this, for a while."

"Do that," suggested Giles, "but do try to stop by tomorrow, before Buffy's patrol. A bit of sparring could do you both good, and I know Willow misses you."

"Her new dude isn't keeping her distracted?" asked Xander wryly.

"I _highly_ doubt anything could ever distract her from worrying about her best friend in the world, Xander."

Xander worried at his lip for a moment, before nodding.

"Yeah, tonight then. I think I'm going to have to sleep through the rest of my daylight hours first, but yeah."

**-Averitt Memorial Center, After Sunfall-**

The broad, auditorium-like assembly of steps was lit by just a single, flickering streetlamp. It was a calming place, thought Xander. Idly he dropped a coin and listened to check the acoustics of the place. One of the better habits he'd picked up, he had to admit.

"So, what have you been up to?" asked Willow. She was being awkward, and not just the standard, Willow-y anxiety. She was awkward toward _him._ There were, of course, any number of responses to this:

a) Patrolling, but mostly stalking his new subjects and unobtrusively checking their receipts.

b) Causing a radical shift in the order of power amongst the denizens of the underworld.

c) Writing dirty limericks about Cordelia Chase and her newfound loathing of bugs.

All of these answers were equally unacceptable. Willow had never approved of his dirty limericks, and that was before he'd gotten _good _at them.

"Oh, you know, just sending Giles' produce and red jell-o bills through the roof. What's new with my favorite redhead?" The joke and question cheered her up, and sent her babbling about computers, and twelfth-century monks, and Oz, and-

"Oz? Who's this young man you've been hanging out with, young lady? Would I approve of his intentions?"

"Xander!" She blushed. "He's just a nice... friend. He's smart, and he's a musician!" Xander frowned.

"Musicians? You can't trust that bunch, Willow. They're trouble waiting to happen, mark my words." He idly plucked at his bass. Willow obliged with a lopsided grin.

"Do we seriously need to turn this into an outing of the Mouseketeers?" quipped Buffy. Well, Xander corrected himself, she snarked. Was Angel not peeping through her window enough, or something?

That comment, once he'd voiced it, earned him a thrown stake. He tilted his head and let it float past one pointy ear.

"Buffy! No throwing weapons at friends, missy!" Willow brought herself up to her full, not considerable, height, and frowned.

"He can dodge it. Seriously, is this all the ground we're covering tonight? Xander could be covering the West side and I could be home for my five hours' beauty rest." Giles glanced up from his folded-over map of Sunnydale and looked at the young Slayer with concern.

"If you're at all tired, Buffy, we could-"

"No. I'm fine. I think I just heard something in fact, so I'll go dust it. Back in a flash." She spun and walked off.

"Er, I'll just..." Giles trailed off, and Xander nodded.

"Go right on ahead, Giles. We'll cover the memorial." The man nodded gratefully, and trailed off through the underbrush after Buffy. Uncomfortable at the tense atmosphere, Willow shuffled closer to Xander.

"So. You can, um, play that? I mean, real music?" she asked, glancing at the modified battle axe. Xander offered her a grin.

"Yeah. It's the best thing I got out of Halloween. Marshall Lee, the vampire who took my place, then? He didn't have access to _nearly_ as much music as we do. The late-night record store's turned into Heaven on the Hellmouth, if you get my meaning." He hefted the instrument. "Want to hear me play?" She nodded, eager to forget Buffy's annoyed little exit.

A chord. A quick trail of notes, high to low. Not quite a scale, and with just a bit of hidden complexity. Without thinking, he opened his mouth...

_"The quietest place at world's end,_

_north of the city's lights/_

_brought us over, in...to older,_

_darker visions' sights/_

_Running harder, than we've ever,_

_just to stay ahead/_

_we're running to keep over water,_

_not just for our day's bread/"_

He cut off, and tilted his head toward where their two companions had disappeared.

"Xander, that was beautiful! You should-"

"Hold on, Wills," he said, cutting her off. "I think there's trouble. Also, the last line needs work, but thank you!"

They abandoned their spot under the streetlamp and head further into the memorial cemetery. What they found wasn't precisely trouble, but it was unsettling- Buffy was literally beating a vampire to death.

With something like... relief? Xander noted that he wasn't one of his. Just another prowling fledgling.

The small blond brushed off Giles's worried questions and stalked off, claiming that the night was over. Giles sighed and began industriously cleaning his glasses.

"What was... that?" asked Xander dumbly. "She's usually a bit less, you know, horrifying, when she's slaying. We vampiric folk tend to compost pretty cleanly when we're killed. I think bits of that guy are stuck in the ground."

"Buffy's just, ah, dealing with a lot at the moment," muttered the Watcher. "Take Willow home, would you, Xander?"

"Of course." The Watcher went off. "Well, that was awkward." _Topic change, topic change..._ "Hey Willow, ever wanted to fly?"

In between giggling and shrieking, Willow spilled gossip during what had to be the gentlest interrogation ever. Some guy, Ted, was putting the moves on Joyce. Xander felt as frustrated as he had when he'd needed to drop out- Joyce Summers wasn't 'in the know' when it came to the supernatural. As such, he hadn't been able to visit the Summers household. His best bet in seeing the kindly (and attractive), older woman was to wait for next Halloween and do a 'costume repeat'.

Unless he went as a gothic Spock, which just wasn't in the cards no matter _how_ often Willow begged.

**-Ted's Bunker Home-**

This was bad. Preserved or not, it hadn't taken Xander more than a minute before sussing out the location of "Ted's" past four wives' bodies. The whole event had gone rotten. The freaky robot and his entire sordid history had come out, leaving Joyce traumatized and the rest of them stressed. Xander only wished he _could_ have come by the Summers household.

_The lack of a heartbeat would have been a dead giveaway, for this monster-of-the-week._

"Xander, help me carry this mechanical corpse," chirped Willow.

"That... is not a phrase I hear often. Probably not often enough, really, but would you mind if I ask- _why do you want the mechanical corpse?!"_

"For science!"

"And you do not, in any way, think this is treading upon that which man was not meant to know?"

"Silly Xander, I'm not a man." Xander considered this logic and found it to be flawless.

"Fair enough. I'll grab the torso."

Xander winced as he heard, coming from the next room over:

"Was that Xander? Why hasn't he visited?" Joyce. Oooh, boy.

"He wasn't with us before, mom," Buffy assured her. "It's probably those roofies working their way through your system. Let's go get that ice cream, okay?"

Sunnydale Syndrome strikes again. Everyone not in the know goes back to their lives, hardly bothered. Or at least, the ones who lived did.

"Willow?"

"Yes, Xander?" asked the redhead from over a stacked pile of limbs.

"This town totally sucks."

"Yeah."

**-Outside Sunnydale General Hospital-**

"Seriously? I know your moves, Xander Lee. You think you can stop me? You and what army?"

Things had gone bad, the last few months. Worse than usual, even for Sunnydale. It hadn't started with Angelus, but the newly de-souled master vampire was currently topping Xander's list.

His new nocturnal habits had made it unbearably difficult to support the other members of the Scooby Gang. Angelus, once Angel, had been picking up fledgling recruits and cutting into Xander's efforts to commandeer the vampire populace.

However, not everything was terrible. Sometimes you got a line handed to you, one that you could run with, and it made everything else worthwhile. Better yet, this one was a classic.

"This army." Quietly, and deliberately, forty figures stepped out from behind every structure. All were armed, and all were wearing their game faces. They moved as if the action had been choreographed (Xander would never admit that he'd had his subjects running drills in 'awesome entrances' for a week straight).

Angelus, plus ten flunkies, took in the group and backed off after a few especially nasty comments.

Xander let his hands carefully unclench from his bass. Angelus was... entirely deserving of his title as master vampire. If Spike had killed more Slayers, it was only for having had more opportunities. His skills with a sword had been honed as a human brawler, and later had aided him in cutting a bloody swath through Europe. Giles's Watcher diaries had been enlightening in the worst way.

The vampire king wasn't entirely sure how he'd match up - Buffy still held him at even odds when she could get him on the ground. And she'd never actually been willing to fight against her one-time lover seriously herself, so...

"Your highness?" Xander turned to Eric, a young-looking vampire who'd somehow become like a second-in-command, if only in spirit. None of his subjects had actually 'joined the good fight' without being directly ordered to, but some of them had shown... something. It was probably one of the advantages of being a thrall, he supposed- being under the orders of a stronger vampire made one less bestial. Direction took the place of a conscience, he was coming to believe.

"Yes, Eric?"

"Um, sire. Does it seem remotely odd that we're guarding the Slayer? Pardon her being your acquaintance, of course." _Whyever that might be, _hung unsaid.

"Of course it does. We're breaking the natural order, my darling subjects. We're making something strange and interesting. You all know how I get when I'm... bored." Several of the group shuddered.

Oh, yes. The strawberry Twinkie assembly was coming along _nicely._

"Come on. You know the guard shifts. Eric, your group's with me. We've got to expand the kingdom."

With no small satisfaction, he saw that some of his subjects were downright eager. Sure, they thought he was playing a game, but they were playing too, and that's what counted.

_-Author's Note-_

_My Monday update, as promised. A bit longer than the last, and I honestly hope I can keep up the trend._

_A few chapters in, and I'm planning a fairly large timeskip. And an even larger one after that, before we find ourselves in the land of Aaa._

_Some of you seemed pretty intent on Xander doing unspeakable things to Spike, Angel, or... well, you get the idea. I hate to disappoint, but I've always been of the opinion that the formula for fanfiction should be (deviation) - impacts (cannon events) = different (endpoint). By which I mean, I'm not sure where Xander, a devout heterosexual, would have changed enough to have joined the other team, so to speak._

_Then again, Marshall Lee has been around for a very long time, and one _would_ tend to get bored after a while, and..._

_Wow, my mind just wandered to some _very_ interesting places. Anyway, sorry to my LBGT homies, but Xander is as Xander is._


	4. Seasons Of Discontent

_-Author's Note-_

_This chapter got its name from the fact that it does, in face, cover multiple seasons of the Buffy series. After this and the next chapter, we'll be going out into the wide world, a bit._

_Xander's query about the nature of vampires and their relative inhumanity are sort of touched upon by the original series' inclusion of the Judge, which burned the humanity right out of beings. The bookworm vampire Dalton, for instance, with his love of knowledge, was immolated by the demonic smurf. Angelus, bastard that he was, had absolutely nothing to fear._

_Spike himself would have died, too, if the Judge hadn't thought him somewhat useful. Vampires are, in the series, fully capable of wonder, love, and charm that one would typically attribute to humans first- it just doesn't come as easily to them._

* * *

Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter Four: Seasons Of Discontent-**

**-Lizewski's Auto Lot (Abandoned)-**

Buffy and Faith, through a combination of guilt, threats, and annoyingly reasonable logic on Giles's part, were on the last leg of their tandem patrol for the night. There had been two disappearances here in the last week, according to Willow's 'spiffy' news search-engine, and it was extremely likely that the car lot had become host to a group even more devious than the typical car salesman.

Near to where the lot bordered a thicket of trees, the two girls hopped the fence and began to creep inward. They hadn't gotten past the first row of cars, though, before stalling.

A vampire -obvious to their Slayer senses and doubly obvious since his face had gone all demon-y- went flying through the air. He rolled, tried to get up, then groaned and thought better of it. Buffy caught Faith's eye and tilted her head.

_Get a better view?_

Faith nodded, and went first. They kept to the shadows, and so saw the two black-clad figures standing to either side of the groaning figure. Not... doing anything- just watching. The real show was vivible just inside the garage. An entire ring of black-clad vampires -and they were definitely vampires- surrounded a more scruffy group of the undead. The ones inside the ring looked like typical lackey material. If they'd had leaders, they were probably now the trails of dust slowly drifting down through the floor.

The ones in black looked professional, which _really_ set Buffy's teeth on edge.

One, average height with a number of piercings and weapons to offset the image made by the nice, clean clothes, stepped forward with a ring binder in his hands.

"Per the orders of the vampire king, you are all offered a place within the royal society. Citizenship requires you pay heed to the following three rules: Our king, is the king. Anyone who wishes-"

He continued, and the Slayers gaped in astonishment. They watched as several of the group tried to beg off or outright attack, and they were staked or cut down at swordpoint. Buffy more than Faith was troubled by the vampire's wording as he outlined the three rules - something about it rang the oddest of bells in her mind.

The still living members of the scruffier group were led off by the bulk of the... soldiers? Whatever. Six were left. The leader ordered three of them to meet off with another group by the docks-

"There are more of these guys?" mouthed Faith. Her eyes bugged out. For Buffy, the other girl might as well have been a brunette mirror.

-And then he led the remaining two out onto the road, to 'report'.

The choice was obvious to the two girls, and they followed the three vampires most likely to have answers.

Face-piercing-guy was crossing the street with the other two when he froze. Slowly, carefully, he turned around with his hands raised and took in the Slayers.

"Buffy Summers. Faith Lehane. It's a pleasure to meet you- I've heard good things."

"About little ol' us? I sure hope so," replied Buffy. "So, out taking missions for Elvis?" The vampire frowned, before brightening up.

"Oh! The king. Right, very clever. I'm guessing our lord hasn't told..." he trailed off. "No? Okay, that's fine. James?" The nervous vampire to his left patted at his vest- Buffy noticed that she'd been wrong with her first impression, and that the vampires all had red accents on their dark clothing- and pulled out a creamy white envelope. It was only slightly crumpled.

The leader took it, and slowly edged forward. Not enough to seem threatening, and he gave off no signs of rushing them, but Buffy heard Faith shifting. Tense. Buffy sympathized.

The envelope was left on the ground, and the vampire retreated.

"Well?"

"You, uh, read it, Miss Summers." She rolled her eyes, but moved forward and picked it up. She never took her eyes off of him, and found the envelope by touch. After slitting it open, she read it out loud for Faith's benefit.

"To my two favorite Slayers-

"Looks like my secret's out. I won't ask you to trust any of my subjects (and isn't that just the craziest word? Subjects?), but please think before you slay. If they haven't mentioned my three rules, you can ask and they'll be happy to list them. I made sure anyone wearing my colors has the things memorized, and they've been following them to the letter.

"If you want to wait until the next time I meet you at the library, I can explain then. If you're really impatient and confused, you can follow one of my men. All of my friends have safe passage, or else I'll know why not!

-Your friend, Xander Lee"

"...Damn. What the hell's the X-man been up to?" muttered Faith.

"Being very busy," replied Buffy, who glared down at the paper. Her eyes snapped upward. "Take me to him. Now." The lead vamp nodded sharply.

"Absolutely. Our king is meeting with one of the peaceful clans in the Western suburbs.

**-The O'Connel Home-**

It was official- Xander _loved _Brachen demons. They were jolly, generous, and so stereotypically Irish that he felt like he'd been teleported right back to the old country.

The massive O'Connel home was filled-to-bursting with cheerful clansmen. They drank, sang, yelled at the soccer match playing in the den, and tried to keep their bright-eyed children from rough-housing near the good china. Xander could honestly say that he'd have been happy to been born a demon from the start, if it had meant growing up with _this._

The clan leader, a big man by the name of Sean, had been chatting for the last hour about every other Brachen family on the West coast. The Doyles, Atchisons and Boggans (all good folk, Sean had claimed, and had then gone on about describing the big family picnics in Los Angeles and Sacramento) were apparently just as big as the O'Connels.

Sean had actually been curious enough to send a nephew to _invite_ the so-called vampire king to a family gathering. He'd offered Xander and his three guards tall draughts of beer, sat them down, and hadn't so much as flinched when one of the little Brachen girls had climbed up on Xander's chair to stare at his ears. Sure, the clan had them well-outnumbered, but that sort of welcome boggled Xander's mind.

So he bounced little Jenny on his knee, sipped the beer (Sean's wife had spiked it with red food coloring, which had left her husband _very _bemused), and simply enjoyed being there.

"I'll say it straight, sire," said Sean. "You've got the local undead shivering. Fairest man, er, vampire, in Sunnydale, they say." Another thing which left Xander feeling absolutely _awesome_- the clan actually treated him like royalty. Well, if the royalty in question happened to be a close cousin, at least. Which again, was awesome.

He reached down and picked little Jenny's sippy cup back up from the floor, before giving Sean a firm nod.

"I'm being plain about what I want. My subjects are the very best examples of vampire kind. I know that might not seem like much, but I'm certain you'd be pleasantly surprised-" Sean waved him off.

"Last week, some of my cousins were coming back from their highschool basketball game. Some Scourge-wannabes were wandering through town and, well, tried to do what those bastards typically do to the 'impure'. Five of your boys step out of an alley, nearly sends Small Sean and Big James wetting themselves, since things look _bad_, from their end. Then yours start slicing off heads polite-as-can be, and _walk my boys to the bus station!_" The man shrugged.

"Thought it would be only proper to thank you in person." Xander nodded and glanced over to the corner of the kitchen, where five older Brachen demons had surrounded a member of his entourage and were pressing beer after beer into his hands. The vampire was swaying like a sailor.

"You've been mighty friendly, Mister O'Connel."

"Please, call me Sean, sire!"

"Then please call me Xander. We're both here as equal men- I'm definitely no king to Brachen folk, unless I missed a memo."

"A very fair man," remarked the clan's head, a man Xander was liking more by the second. And 'man' was right. Xander's nose told him that the person across from him was nearly one-hundred percent human. The Brachens acted every bit as open-minded as they claimed, and the lot of them ran around in every shade of pink and green on the Crayola pallet. Half had soft, blue facial spikes, for Glob's sakes! Jenny counted among that group, for that matter. Cute as a button.

"So-"

"Your highness!" The two men at the table snapped around to the vampire guard who'd stubbornly remained outside.

"Yes, Tricia?" The undead woman gulped.

"The Slayers, sir. They're outside. Eric escorted them from the car lot operation."

If Xander were capable of going paler, he would have. As it was, he was feeling _distinctly _unwell.

"Um. If you'll excuse me Sean, and Miss Jenny, I have to go... talk. With two very irate ladies." He carefully handed the girl off to her nearby mother.

"Bye, Xander!" she waved.

"Godspeed, King Lee. Any god, really, would do in a pinch."

**-Outside-**

This was bad. _Both _of them had their arms crossed, but he could swear Faith smirked when she saw how nervous he was. He really wished he could reach the strings on his bass- he could play a funeral march by muscle memory alone.

"Hi girls! Nice night for a walk, amiright?"

"King Xander." He flinched.

"Some room, guys?" His subjects very awkwardly backed off, pretending to study the night sky.

"You're... you're running around with vampires. You're leading around vampires. What are you doing, playing Kakistos Junior?"

Ooh, Faith's amused look disappeared fast, after that.

"No! Not at all, no. No." He breathed, and did his best to make eye contact. The demon in him was feeling more nervous than the human, under the stare of more Slayer than had ever existed at any point in history.

"There are fifty-some vampires who haven't so much as touched a drop of unwilling blood since I... convinced them to join, Buffy. I've got three rules-"

"We heard them," said Faith.

"_Innocent_ blood, Xander?" He winced.

"Well, the blood bank has a sort of understanding with anyone who... so not the time to mention that. Okay. Well, there's rule two. And rule three! They've been patrolling, Buff. The streets are safer than ever, now-"

"They're soulless, Xander. What's got them doing this?"

"Soulless doesn't mean heartless-"

"Yes it does! It does, Xander, and I don't know exactly how you think you can keep this up, but-"

"Rule one. Me. _I_ keep this up. I've been the one with the axe, and the plan. And it's working." Xander braced himself, and stood as stubbornly as he could. For a moment, it looked as if Buffy were going to attack. His own subjects shifted just a bit closer. Oh Glob, oh Glob-

She spun and walked off. He wasn't sure exactly how to describe how he felt at that moment, but it wasn't good.

Faith stayed a moment longer, not looking very impressed at all. Then she, too, left. Xander sagged.

"Sire?" prompted Eric.

"Please make my apologies to Clansman O'Connel, Eric. We're heading back. I've got reports to take."

**-Under Sunnydale Highschool-**

Things weren't going according to plan, since that assumed that there was, in any way, a plan, but they were indeed going. His subjects were cutting down any of the Sisterhood of Jhe, or as Eric named them, the 'Smurfy Devil Women', the members of the Scooby Gang were upstairs staving off another apocalypse, and...

"I really think you should disarm that bomb, Jack. It's going to make one hell of a mess out of us both, in a minute." The zombified jock sneered back at him.

"So let's get out of here, drop-out. You can't seriously care about what happens to this dump." Xander let his eyes trail upward, and imagined that he could see his friends fighting for their lives. They, or most of them, at least, wouldn't take his help even if he offered, no matter how bad things were getting.

"I'm thinking... no. We're running out of time, Jack. I'm not sure if I'd survive, but I _know_ you won't." Jack snorted.

"I'm already dead, Harris-"

"That's Lee, to you," cut in Xander. "And I'm guessing there's a difference between 'zombie' and 'pile of hamburger'." Jack tried his best to look brave, and failed.

"And you're just going to stand there?! We'll both die, you crazy bastard!" Xander considered the words and nodded.

"Things have been just... busy, lately. I think I might like to step back. Just for a while. Enjoy the quiet, y'know?"

It took less than a moment for Jack to spin toward the bomb, yank out a very specific wire, and break into a dead run for the door. He didn't make three steps before the air _thrummed, _and his body dropped. His head was in three different layers.

Xander slumped, and tried to feel some of that 'quiet'.

Nothing. And to top it off, he heard growling.

Oz, fuzzy and irritated, erupted out of the doorway.

"Not tonight, man," pleaded Xander tiredly. As was typical of the werewolf during 'that time of the month', Oz didn't show a bit of sympathy. He leaped.

The vampire king let his control slip, just a little. His limbs strained and ballooned outward, and his head stretched into a mockery of every horror movie ever filmed. His eyes reddened, then _glowed._

"_BACK IN YOUR CAGE._"

Werewolf-Oz froze, and slunk, ever so slowly, backward. Xander was almost certain he heard the latch of the cage being secured behind the lycanthrope, in the next room. He sighed, and wiped off his bass before beginning to play, gently. Slowly, the beasts whimpers quieted and stilled.

**-Outside The Library, Sunnydale High-**

"I really, really think this is a bad idea." Xander self-consciously tugged at a thread on his red plaid shirt. Sometimes he thought he should wear a suit. Something more professional, at least, to match his subjects. Then his 'lieutenants', as they were being called by the rest of his group these days, threatened to encourage _all_ of his subjects to pick up the flannel and bluejean standard.

It really wouldn't do to have his subjects looking homeless themselves, so he kept the look. It was probably poetic, or something. Rife with meaning and metaphors.

And he was running his mind to stupider heights just to distract himself. Great.

"I'm serious," he said, and repeated himself. "This is bad." Giles shrugged, and pushed open the library doors as he responded.

"You're our expert on this... more or less."

And there she was. Willow. Except, she was in _leather_. Huh. Beyond her was Willow in not-leather. Leathery Willow was bound by chains, and unable to look back at the two figures standing in the entryway. Xander tried. He really did, but he couldn't _not-_

"Geez, this place is getting sexier by the minute. Was I supposed to bring a costume too?"

"Who is that?" asked what Xander confirmed by scent to be the vampiric, other-Willow. "I know that voice. I _know_ it. Why?" The vampire king made a half circle around her, ignoring the glares he was receiving. Nuts to that- it was _true_.

"Xander! You're grey," remarked the bound vampire once he stepped into view. "What did they do to you? I promise we can fix it. We'll ride off into the moonrise and find our Master."

"Sorry there, Wills, but the Xander you're looking for is in another castle." His eyes darted up to the others, who were watching quietly. He avoided meeting the gaze of their own Willow, who was shuffling nervously.

"They can send you back," he said. "Back to that place of violence and walking, thinking cattle. You can go back to that... person," he ad-libbed, knowing exactly how loyalty even badly-treated thralls can have for their sires, "and just let him grind the world to a halt, without having room for any of the things you still love to do."

"I love grinding the world to a halt," she pouted. "Grinding anything, really. Think you could loosen these chains just a bit?" Xander studiously ignored this, and continued.

"When was the last time you read a book, Wills?" She stared at him. "I can't imagine you've had a good night of Cinema Gone Wrong. Abbott and Costello, and popcorn. Trying to steal my Twinkies every five minutes even though we both know that more than one makes you sick."

"Send me back." She's gone straight past 'annoyed' and into 'wearing a demonic face'.

"Are you-" he broke off. "No, doesn't matter if you're sure or not, you're not going to listen. Good bye, Willow."

He turned, stilled his face completely, and began marching off. He very carefully kept his feet on the ground. Nothing to draw attention. This wasn't his moment. Wasn't about him, since he'd failed to talk sense into Willow's strange double.

Once outside, he lazed around under the assumption that he should at least say good-bye to Giles, once the man was unoccupied.

"Any vampires out here?" Xander lolled on his back in mid-air and tilted his head back.

"Just this one. Are you this reality's Willow, or did you eat everyone and steal her clothes?"

"I'm... me. Sorry?" Xander sighed.

"Please don't apologize for that. Ever." He righted himself, and hovered cross-legged over the pavement. "What brings you out here?"

"I know that Buffy's still angry about you, you know, turning into some undead mafioso," she struggled to ignore the _awesome _grin on his face from that _awesome_ descriptor, "but, if you wanted we could, if you still like movies..."

"Cinema Gone Wrong? You could come over tomorrow, if you wanted." His eyebrow twitched. "If I 'still like movies'. Am I really that different?" He paused. "Aside from the very obvious answers to that question which would poke obscenely large holes in my defense." For the first time in a while, he drew a smile out of her.

"Aside from those? Okay, but I don't know about-" her brow wrinkled. "You're calling it the Warren, right?"

"Too many vampires you don't know. Stranger danger, I get that. I'm sure Giles would let us use his television, but we're going to have to _find _a movie player. He claimed he had one buried somewhere but I don't trust it not to be laserdisc, or something."

"My place is fine," she replied, and Xander saw a nerdly twitch at the word 'laserdisc'. "Just show up like usual."

"You're going to have to invite me in now," he added hesitantly. "Unless you want me to watch through the window, and I know some of your neighbors _already_ thought your little brunette friend looked disreputable when he was running around in Hawaiian shirts-"

"You can come in," she assured him.

That was... odd. He knew, intellectually, that an inhabited home could keep him out just by virtue of being inhabited. He'd never had a chance to test it, and never really felt the urge to gain a broken nose out of trying.

Being invited, though, felt _very_ strange. He knew that, somewhere in the world, there was a place he was no longer barred from. He was allowed there forever, barring a change in ownership or use of a complicated ritual.

"Cool," he said.

**-The Vampire Warren, Some Time Later-**

There were a startlingly large number of abandoned properties in Sunnydale- the local real estate agents seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to properties they were managing that were 'occupied' and which shouldn't be sold. It was hard enough, apparently, to find renters without hand-feeding them to the less savoury population.

As such, it had been short work to have three warehouses, including the first nest Xander had invited himself into, bricked together into a sort of complex. Motivating his subjects in the fine art of interior decorating had been hard, at first, before he started offering the best and biggest areas to the higher-ranking vampires. After that, no one wanted to be left with an unfinished corner to squat in.

The sheer number of unscavenged appliances and entertainment centers in various nests and attacked houses throughout the city had also smoothed things along. The shock of being moved from unwatched crypts to a modern building with regular _Baywatch _showings had made life under the vampire king infinitely easier to accept.

_You've given a lot to our cause, Pamela Anderson,_ thought Xander from above his throne.

The massive, impressive chair was more for show than anything -standing still and earthbound left him increasingly twitchy, these days. Still, it was a good place to receive visitors.

Visitors such as the illustrious Mr. Trick. The very same vampire who'd followed the master vampire Kakistos cross-country to track the newest Slayer, Faith, in a vengeance quest, only to disappear and leave his master to his fate.

The undead bastard had testicles, at the very least, to show up here and now.

Xander settled into his throne as the dark-skinned man was led into the room. The vampire looked a lot less cocky than he had at the entryway. The closed-circuit cameras had shown a much more cocky expression on his way in. That probably, mused Xander, had something to do with being led through the practice hall. Which had -entirely coincidentally- been hosting what amounted to a military parade. Two dozen vampires wouldn't normally count as a 'parade', even on a good day, but he had specifically asked Tricia to let her sword slip when Trick was led through the hall.

The tear in the collar of Trick's shirt was either really good aiming, or really bad- Xander was pretty pleased either way.

"King Xander Lee," said Trick, breaking the silence. "I'm here on behalf of the-"

"Mayor," cut in Xander. "Yeah, I figured." He gawped for a moment, at Trick's shocked expression. "We know. Of _course_ we know. What member of Sunnydale's seedy underbelly doesn't know that Wilkins is pulling the strings?"

"The member of Summers's group-"

"Also know. I told them, obviously." That had gone over well. Buffy had made insinuations about turf wars between Xander and the _other_ big bad in town. It would have been more insulting if it weren't, also, just the slightest bit true. "And I'm sure the latest gossip in your Sunday circle was that we were on the outs. I assure you, that's becoming less true by the second."

_Or so I hope_, he thought.

"What makes you say that?" asked Trick snidely, shortly before being bludgeoned unconscious. Xander hopped down, lightly, and prodded the body with his foot. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with vampires, but the mayor's lackey was well and truly out of it.

"Please give Rupert Giles a call," he requested, "I'm sure you know what to mention," he added, and Eric hurried off with a nod. "Tricia, get the popcorn and soda ready, please."

"Yes sire, but that shouldn't take very long to do. In the meantime, um, would you like to talk about it?" Xander, who had been pacing, stalled. He glanced over at his subordinate.

Tricia was, in appearances, fourteen. She'd been turned in the late eighties, and become something of a roving menace on the town's outskirts ever since. When she'd been caught in one of Xander's first, infamous round-ups, she'd tried to bite out his throat. It was probably the illusion of youth in her face, but he'd refrained from dusting her at the time. One way or the other, that had turned out for the better.

"How's the painting going, Tricia?" As well-fed vampires were capable of, she blushed prettily.

"Good, sire. The night class you suggested has been... not uninteresting." He nodded.

"Good. I've always..." he paused, but then thought, _to hell with it_, and continued, "I've been thinking, lately, that the biggest difference between vampires and the living was the nature of the soul."

"Do you mean Angelus, sir? I mean, Angel?" He shook his head in the negative.

"Speaking in general, I mean. Humans just... have them. They're as obvious as a healthy liver, in that they filter out everything bad without you ever being aware that you even have one of the damned things, except in the broader sense. The demons that we are (and he wasn't sure if he was including himself with the others or not, he honestly couldn't say) sort of take the place of souls. Only we _are_ the little voices in the backs of our heads.

"So few vampires actually consider their own actions. Without guilt as a natural reflex, we become lazy, mentally. Running around like animals doesn't make sense. It _doesn't_. Your life is... better, now, right?" he asked, curious and just slightly worried. To his relief, she smiled.

"Yes, sire! I feel like I matter here."

_And to think_, thought Xander, _I considered the possibility a _side benefit_, back when I first jumped on this damned idea. This was worth it by itself. This was worth not seeing the sun._

An hour passed, and he played his bass quietly. Tricia settled onto the steps and closed her eyes. He really should do a show, sometime. Maybe Oz would be interested in doing a side project outside of the Dingoes. Did Xander know any drummers?

Suddenly, it seemed, the far doors opened. Giles walked in calmly, taking in the architecture. Faith followed him, hands reflexively gripping under her bomber jacket, which he knew held any number of small weapons. He waved off the two guards escorting them.

"Is this some kind of a joke? Why are we even here?" asked the dark-haired Slayer. "I'm getting what Buffy calls the wiggins, seriously."

"Hello, Xander," said Giles. "You really don't visit often enough." Xander shrugged.

"I figured the others wanted a bit of space. You know, with the accusations and such. How are you, G-Man?" he asked honestly.

"I'm well, thank you. I still despise the nickname, of course, but I've just about given up on that one," admitted the British man wryly.

"King Xander," mocked Faith. Xander grinned.

"It makes me feel all kinds of sexy when you say that, Faith." She snorted. "And I can tell you feel the same way. As to why you're here, I got you a present."

"Oh?" she prompted, cautiously.

"Come on. We'll have popcorn ready in a bit." Tricia took that as her signal, and hurried off.

"Popcorn for what?"

**-The Atrium-**

It was a small crowd that settled into the sheltered overhand in the space between the three conjoined warehouses. Dawn was coming fast, and shade or no shade, the place made too many of his subjects too nervous to hang about. Aside from him, Giles, and Faith, only Eric, Tricia, and a handful of others were in the seats. Giles passed the popcorn to Faith.

"What, are we expecting a show?" She sniffed the bowl of kernels and, deeming it edible, popped a buttery kernel in her mouth.

"This is where we deal with traitors, murderers, and unsavoury types," said Xander conversationally.

"Giles?" she asked worriedly, looking as if she expected to be jumped. The Watcher put a hand on her shoulder.

"Xander?"

"Watch," prompted the vampire king. Even as he spoke, one of the outer doors was opened and Trick was led out, carried between four of Xander's subjects. "He's no Kakistos, since you girls took care of him already, but this was the best I could do on such short notice." Faith took in the chains staked to the ground, and the quickly-lightening sky.

"This is your idea of a present?"

"I also got you a beanie baby," he offered. He snapped his fingers, and Eric hurried forward with a small stuffed animal. The vampire offered it to the Slayer, who took with with an air of bewilderment.

She glanced down at the glittery white unicorn, then up at Trick, and finally craned her neck back so she could take in Xander's face.

"Can... I... have both?"

Dawn rose over the city shortly thereafter.

**-Oakley Corners Cemetery-**

"What up?"

Faith whirled, tensed up like a spring. Xander raised a pair of empty hands.

"Truce! Parley! I'm alone and handsome- I can _not_ be that threatening," he joked. The Slayer gave him a disbelieving stare, before turning away.

"Hey, King. What brings you to this neck of the graveyard?"

"Same thing that brings any vampire to any neck?" She didn't even fake a laugh, for that one. He'd have to up his game.

"No, I was bored. Wanted to jam, but Oz and Giles are both busy." That got something, there.

"Giles plays? As in, an instrument?" Xander nodded cheerfully, uncaring that Faith couldn't actually see the gesture.

"He rocks the acoustic guitar. Sings, too- like a tweed angel, that one." He floated over, and for shits and giggles, flipped upside-down to read some of the grave stones. It was surprisingly comfortable, when your blood flowed slowly and did its own thing heedless of gravity, and didn't rush to your head. It seemed sudden, but Faith had obviously been building up to it, when she blurted out-

"I killed a guy."

"It happens," replied Xander, trying to trace out the last words of one 'Adrian Greznik'. Some of these things were really amusing, out-of-context.

"A human guy," she clarified.

"I heard. It happens." At her look, he went on, "I'm the king of vampires, not the king of fluffy marshmallow men from Venus." That brought an angry flush to her cheeks.

"Not worse than a vampire, then? Thanks." He shrugged.

"Not my meaning, but true- you're really not. Vampires can _choose_ to feel remorse, or not to feel it. I can _smell_ the guilt you're feeling." At her odd expression he added, "Vampiric schnoz, remember? Looks ugly as hell when I vamp-out. Like, five times worse than hair-gel boy, and that's being generous."

"You could use some," she muttered, and Xander adopted a hurt look on his face. The hell he did- his 'do' wanted to be free.

"We're still cool Faith, if you want to be. We can talk if you need to, or just hang. If you need to get away from the other Scoobs for a bit, that's alright too. The Warren gets, like, nine-thousand channels."

He'd remember those words later. He'd wonder if he ought to have regretted them, after when Wesley summoned the Watchers' Council to take Faith into custody. When he met her escaping from the black ops van, and took her in. When she finally begged off and put herself into custody of real police before the whole mess could devolve into a three-way war between the Royal Society, Mayor Richard Wilkins, and the Council.

He'd wonder, but could never bring himself to regret it, in the end.

**-Graduation Day-**

It wasn't quite being in the light of day, but walking in the shadow of the eclipse was a change of pace, to be certain. Just over ninety figures, in black and red, stood just beyond the parking lot of Sunnydale Highschool. He knew the overall plan, and his friends had actually made the tentative gesture of trust in bringing him in on the brainstorming session. The whole thing was brash, and reckless, and appealed to his inner pyromaniac. He liked it.

Which hadn't stopped him from improving it at the last minute. Eric had been the one to step forward, 'suggesting' that the rest of Xander's subjects were just as willing to face Wilkins as the king himself. Glob bless his loyal, soulless monstrosities.

As the last ray of direct sunlight failed, he brought his hand down in a sharp gesture. As one, they stepped out from under the cover of the trees. Thankfully the day had been windless, or else a single wavering branch could have completely ruined the (in his opinion) awesome formation.

They walked, and at Eric's barked order, broke into a run. They swarmed, past, around, and even over the parked vehicles. "Up!" shouted Eric, and they'd brushed completely past the few straggling mortals out front and onto the low roof of the front atrium. "Up!" again, and they were on the roof over the quad. Xander took back point position, and gave the assembly below a quick once-over.

Seeing the supposedly oblivious population armed, shivering in fear, but stubbornly ready to fight sent a thrill through him. _This_ was how things should be. Everyone standing, aware of the evil in the world, and standing firm with a ready hand to _stab that evil in its face_.

Many of the students glanced up and nearly broke in terror of the new force that had seemingly surrounded the graduating class. So, Xander gave the signal.

"Protect the students! Cut down every one of Wilkins's filthy lapdogs! The first one of you to bring me a piece of snake hide gets a raise!"

The words were pure Eric. Xander decided to appoint him 'inspirational speaker' for the Royal Nation. They were good words- when his subjects broke into malicious shouts, so did half of the students, if only in relief that they weren't being cornered by another pack of monsters.

No, his monsters were the friendly type.

Below, he saw his friends gathered in front before the mayor's rapidly growing form. He caught a savage, Ripper-like grin from Giles and resolved to buy that man a new record player, just because. Willow, Oz, Cordelia and the rest of the circle smiled back at him. Even Buffy had enough of a heart to offer him an accepting nod. He'd take what he could get from the temperamental Slayer.

For that moment, Xander gave into gravity completely and _leaped_.

* * *

_-Author's Note-_

_My idea here being, that if cannon Xander tried to win over Faith before she could turn herself over to the Mayor's tender mercies, then a Xander in a much more stable position would be a bit more capable, and a bit more _confident_, in not taking 'no' for an answer._

_And before anyone asks, given his relative distance from the group, she has not dragged him into her bed and had her wicked way with him. Our poor Xander is thus far lady-less, by virtue of being far too busy to get busy. So far._

_Also, a lot of my reviewers are Buffy fans, but haven't actually seen Adventure Time. Goofy title, odd premise, crazy hidden depths is all I can say. They still haven't gone into how the titular character is the last human on Earth!_

_Better still, some of you _are _getting into it. Good to be in good, nerdly company._


	5. Initial Estimates

_-Author's Note-_

_I am so sorry! A day later than its.. late... release date! I had to reconstruct this one from memory after my computer melted, and that is _infinitely_ harder to do than to make something up from scratch! In return, this one tops twenty pages. The next chapters were _not_ lost to hard drive crash, so are already ready. I've got, like, 40,000 additional words typed up and ready to go. This thing is already approaching novel-length._

_I really wish I could have put some of the events from the episode 'Superstar' in here, as it's one of my favorite episodes, and features my favorite nerd in the series, Jonathan._

_On the other hand, I _did_ get to mess with the 'Restless' episode at the chapter's end, which is _definitely_ one of the series's highlights._

_Be sure to check out my Adventure Time-centric 'Lighting The Way', also updating every Monday!_

Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter Five: Initial Estimates-**

**-Outside Of The Summers Home-**

Xander stood on the sidewalk outside Revello Drive, slowly trying to gnaw through his own lip. The lights were on. The graduation party was reving up- he could tell. Buffy had all but ordered him to come, as the group picked its way out of the ruins of the highschool, and he'd agreed because she'd looked _highly _stressed.

He really wished he'd brought his bass axe. Playing always calmed him down. Of all things, he didn't want to face Joyce. Sweet Joyce Summers, who'd always made extra dinner for her daughter's friends. Who'd never gotten drunk and ordered him out of the house. Who made those awesome pancakes whenever he showed up _way_ too early to have actually slept at his own home, the previous night.

She was going to freak, and those heavenly cookies would have been cut into perfect little crosses. She'd throw them, shuriken style, and they would go through him like a hot holy symbol through a vampire. He'd _heard_ how she reacted to the truth about Angel, and she was supposed to know Xander a lot better.

"Hey Xander," came Willow's voice. She was coming up the way, carrying some tupperwear full of something undoubtedly healthy, and probably leafy green.

"Hi, Wills. Going in?" She nodded happily.

"I just got the smell of burning snake washed out of my hair," she said proudly. "What's keeping you out here?"

Xander told her about the probable cookie shuriken. The redhead nodded, and calmly looked him in the eye.

"You're an idiot, Xander."

"No I'm not! Well, maybe, but I _really_ think I should go. I could send a card. Does Hallmark make a card for vampirism? Of course they do. Hallmark has a card for everything." He nervously backed up a pace and floated off the ground. Willow narrowed her eyes and _leapt._

"Oh no you don't! You're coming inside!" Shocked, Xander rose higher. Willow locked her arms around him and began trying to mount his torso like the vampire was the K9 summit.

"Willow, leggo!"

"Not 'til you're sane!"

"Um..." Both teenagers, living and otherwise, glanced down. Twenty feet below, Oz watched them with a single, quirked eyebrow. "I sort of need that one, Xander. Mind kidnapping someone else?" Xander scowled and pointed accusingly.

"She started it!"

"No, he did!"

"I'm ending it. Down." Both teenagers came to a rest just above street-level. Oz hooked his arm in Xander's, and Willow did the same on his other side. All while still, impressively, juggling the tupperware. She'd been holding it the entire time.

"Guys, I should really just go," pleaded Xander.

"Why?" asked Oz.

"Shuriken!" exclaimed the vampire king.

"Huh. Willow?" She made a stern face. "Yeah, gotta go with the girlfriend. Sorry."

"You know," said Xander, "You normally speak a lot less. I think I liked that more." Oz shrugged helplessly.

"It's an emotional moment. I got caught up in it." They marched him up the driveway, and were absolutely unmoved by his threats, protestations of innocence, and insistence that he needed to go to his appointment at a tanning salon.

Buffy answered the door. She looked the trio up and down.

"Hurry up inside. Giles is about to start sneaking chips any minute, now." Willow and Oz moved forward as one, but stopped when the irresistable force of Xander's nose met the immovable object of the house's threshold.

"Abomination unto God, here, remember?!"

"Ohmygosh, sorry!" Willow back away while Xander blinked away tears. Buffy offered a half-smile.

"Just wondering if that worked on you, is all. You're invited in." Hesitantly, and ceasing his affront to gravity so he wouldn't get caught on the doorway, he entered. The gift of flight kicked back in immediately, though, when Buffy grabbed him and spun him upside down.

"You are in for a _world _of hurt," she hissed, but backed off and left him hanging there. Immediately, Xander found himself staring up at Joyce Summers from about the vicinity of her elbow. She had a look of motherly righteousness so severe it could have peeled paint.

"A year. You disappear for months, and even a _year _after I learn about this paranormal nonsense you can't even give me a phone call?"

"I'm, uh, I didn't think you'd be okay with, with- _sorry Mrs. Summers,_" he said, mumbling near the end. Her eyes softened, and Xander found himself crushed in the oddest inverted hug he'd ever received. Hesitantly, he hugged her back.

"I've got some red cranberry sauce and barbecue," she mumbled into his ribs. "You are to be over every week from now on or I will drag you out of that warehouse _by hand._" She stepped back, spun him rightside-up, and hurried off to the kitchen to stir something.

Xander stared blankly. Several faces smirked and or scowled at him.

"I'm going to marry her."

Buffy punched him.

**-University Sunnydale Cafeteria-**

The two girls stared at Xander. He nodded at them, companionably. They looked up at the midday sun, and then down at him. At his hat, precisely. His broad, woven sombrero with a jaunty tassel affixed to one end.

"You... go around. Wearing this. Willingly." Buffy stared at him in a kind of horrified awe.

"The stage makeup takes care of indirect lighting. The colored contacts keep my brain from wanting to melt." The contacts which, Buffy noted, gave him decorative, sparkly cat's-irises.

"My Slayer sense honestly doesn't go off around you anymore," said the blond in a kind of daze, "but right now, I _really_ want to stake you. On principle."

"Tell me what you really think, Buffster!" He watched her throat visibly lock up, so he tried target number two. "Hey Wills, how's college life treating you?"

That, at least, knocked her out of her shocked state as she descended into gushing babble over her professors, the curriculum, and the Wiccan club.

"And it's really sort of lame- ha! Me calling something lame, I mean, but there's this girl who actually seems to get it! Her name's Tara, and she's really nice, and-" Xander listened and nodded occasionally. He'd already caught sight of this Tara. Unlike everyone else in the open-air cafeteria, who were all staring because of his hat, she was looking directly at Willow. Xander's mind worked as only an immortal teenager's can.

"Is she blond? Sort of willowy, no pun intended, and carries a lot of books?" Willow stared at him with wide eyes.

"How did you know?" Xander let his eyes flicker back and forth.

"Well, that particular cutie of that particular description is looking right at you." Willow froze.

"She... she is?"

"Mmhmm. Maybe you and Oz should invite her out, sometime. Have a night out on the town, or just a quiet evening watching movies. I bet she likes artsy stuff. Maybe Oz can play something for you." Willow brightened.

"That sounds like a good idea, Xander! Oz would love to meet her. They're both sort of quiet, and really nice, and I..." she froze, and twitched. "I... I need to go think about stuff. Um, bye?" Xander waved. Buffy seemed to break out of her fugue state. She narrowed her eyes.

"What did you just do to Willow?" she hissed. Xander Lee shook his head patronizingly.

"It's what I just did _for_ Willow," he corrected. "Also, the hat? We're in the middle of a _state_ college. I'm beat out for weird by half the goths." He paused. "Who keep eyeing me all hungry-like."

**-University Sunnydale Campus, Late Night-**

It was some sort of hunter demon. Eric was sure it was one of the breeds out of Europe, probably, but then he wasn't as up on his reading as Tricia. It _may_ have been some sort of overgrown leprechaun. Cautiously, he radioed his team and gave them a status update, before he began to follow the thing.

Twenty meters back, a group of black-clad figures stepped out of the brush. They stalked forward with clunky pistols that were absolutely cocooned in wiring.

Twenty meters behind _them_, the remainder of Eric's group caught sight of the new figures and began to cautiously follow_._

Xander, bored and out on patrol and looking, perhaps, to scare his subjects out of any lax or boring behaviors, caught site of _that_ group and began following.

Tara, a young witch of considerably kind nature, saw one of Willow's friends and went to catch up to him and perhaps pump him for information about said redhead.

Willow and Oz, who had exited the campus building just shortly before Tara, saw the girl and moved to catch up with _her._

"I like her," said Willow. "Maybe we could all go catch a movie?" she suggested.

"I suppose," said Oz agreeably.

"She's very pretty, did you notice?" The redhead glanced at him from the corner of her eye and chewed slowly at her lip.

"Um... I only have eyes for you?" Willow beat down her frustration.

"But, say, if you wanted to think two girls were pretty, but at the _same time._" Oz felt his pupils dilate.

"She... she _is _pretty, in that sense..." he admitted cautiously. Willow beamed.

Further up ahead, Xander sifted through the various comm channels that his teams operated on, and quickly got a sinking feeling in his gut. Additionally, he caught Tara's approaching scent. This was a bad situation, he knew, so decided to go for the direct approach. He spun, and caught Tara on her shoulder with a hearty clap just as she was about to announce herself. She froze.

"Hey Tara. Tara, right? Willow was talking _all_ about you, today. You're a witch. Know about the undead? Good, great. Now, I'm a scary monster, but I'm Willow's friend, which means that I'm the absolute safest person you can be with, right now. I have to do something dangerous, but you're still very safe as long as you _trust_ me." He paused for a beat, and took in her wide-eyed expression.

"In short, would you like to see a little bit more of your crush's after-hours activities?"

"_Yes!_" she squeaked. He smiled.

"Cool. Now, remember, I'm the _friendly_ monster out here tonight."

Then the other two teams of militarily-clad figures spilled out of the bushes.

Then Xander's eyes went red.

The next two minutes were a blur. Apparently the soldier boys involved in the evening's clusterfuck weren't quite as up on the idea of 'teamwork' among their targets as they could have been. Once Tricia led in a new squad of black and red figures, Xander grinned ferally at the shouted orders for 'retreat!' thereafter.

Xander was casually glancing down the barrel of one of the fancy guns that had been left behind when he sensed Eric jogging up to him.

"Report," said Xander, thumbing a switch and listening to the device hum.

"No fatalities. Three down from those light-socket super-soakers." His many-times pierced lieutenant hesitated. A glow appeared deep in the barrel of the gun pointed at Xander's face.

"And?" he prompted.

"They took Tricia."

The gun exploded in Xander's hand. He glanced at the remains with soot-blackened eyes.

"Huh," he remarked. "Call Giles and let him know what's the what, okay? No Scoobies out alone." He pointed over to where Willow and Oz were comforting a shell-shocked Tara. "Take them wherever they want to go."

"And Tricia, sir?" The woman's own squad had formed up, each one wearing their game faces. Xander mused about just how likeable the little pixie of an undead teen the girl was, as well as her boundless capacity for violence. Those were the building blocks for friendship among the undead.

He met the eyes of each one of them, letting them see his own, admittedly horrifying, game face. They backed down quickly, chastened.

"I'll be back with her in an hour. If I take longer, follow my scent and storm the place. Leave no stone upon the other, yadda yadda."

That statement cheered them up immensely.

**-University Park-**

The trail left by the commando-types was fairly easy to follow. They'd been in a hurry, they'd been shuffling their own walking wounded along, and Tricia smelled like strawberry shampoo and yak's blood, for which she'd gained an incomprehensible liking. The stuff was also expensive as hell, but he indulged her anyway.

Tricia was the little sister he'd always wanted, Xander mused as he ghosted invisibly above the lawn. She was fun, listened, and gabbed endlessly without a hint of self-consciousness. Also, she had been born in the era where Mel Brooks was king, and could recite _Blazing Saddles_ line-for-line.

She was also... an example, of sorts, for his other subjects. They saw her enjoying life as a productive member of vampire society. The undead being selfish by nature, they wanted that too. She was always the first to drag the newbies in for movie night, or turn drills into a fun competition.

If the Royal Society (they had just started using that term. Xander had _nothing_ to do with it) lost her, there probably really _wouldn't_ be a stone left standing in these guys' home base.

And what a base it was.

No weight to set off the alarms. No excess heat from his body. An invisible form ghosting in just after a rotating patrol. Xander saw, without obstruction, the truly massive complex that he heard called the Initiative.

While Sunnydale was its own historical honeycomb of ruins and tunnels and sunken buildings, this place _really_ took the cake. Xander began to grow very slightly worried. Any doubts that this was military, as in it was a branch of the world's largest armed forces, quickly disappeared.

Of course, it _had_ to be secret. That would work to his advantage... if he had any idea what kind of struggle the Scoobies and the Nation were facing, that was.

They seemed almost clueless, in a way. But growing less so by the minute, if the various halls of 'specimens' were any indication.

Just after said halls, he found Tricia. She was on a gurney, strapped-down and being labeled an 'HST' by the scientists and soldiers gathered around her.

What the hell.

What the _hell?_

He was debating with himself just how he was supposed to get her out with both of them in one piece (there were, after all_, a lot of guns_), when a distraction provided itself in the form of a running, panicky British vampire. Alarms were being sounded, klaxons were going off, and Xander was able to release Tricia with no more trouble than a few quick knock-out blows to the soldiers who'd managed to keep their jobs in mind.

Making others invisible required concentration, contact, and cooperation. He didn't have any stake in what happened to the rest of this place, hence a lack of _real_ distractions. He was holding her, which covered the 'contact' aspect. And honestly, an unconscious body is one of the most cooperative things in the world next to slime molds.

As he made his way back out, he set a few small fires, just in case. A little fire, after all, could be a lot of help to the discerning anarchist.

**-Above Sunnydale-**

All was quiet in the small, Californian town. Literally, reflected Xander Lee. Everyone's voices had been stolen by some of the creepiest monsters he'd ever met, and he could still recall Marshall's memories of his demon parent. Tentacles, _Glob._

But silent dudes in suits apparently trumped that.

So, for the day, Xander had outfitted as many of his people with alphanumeric pagers as was possible.

_The Radioshack on Fifth Street had made serious commission fees on this day,_he thought.

But while most of his people were holed up or traveling the subterranean routes, he was up in the sky in a ridiculously bad-ass cloak. Not that he tended toward cloaks in any case, but it _did_ prevent a fiery death. He wished he had remembered his awesome sombrero.

He watched his human friends running frantically, and the suspiciously _organized_ groups of young men and women wearing what were ostensibly civilian clothes. He tried to make note of faces. Given their ages, he'd try to start matching them to names on the college campus. Were they aware of the Slayer? Of the Scoobies? Had his own actions in Sunnydale's underworld somehow drawn notice?

He'd have to give big man Sean a call, to see if the Brachen clans had noticed anything. A number of their younger members had served in the military. Maybe some had news of... certain black ops? NDA's, Xander knew, were trumped by the needs of the clan.

He cast his mind back further than should be possible, but at the same time over sixty years in the future. The clear signs of magical catastrophe alongside the Great Mushroom War had puzzled and terrified the public. Little Marshall, still only having the dimmest awareness of his demonic heritage while he lived in his human father's home, had been just as confused.

Was this some point of divergence? Was there something he'd missed, or could be doing? Whatever else, he prayed he was moving fast enough.

-**The Next Night-**

Buffy's boyfriend. Buffy's clean-cut, corn-fed Iowan boyfriend was _one of them!_ Xander, as well as the rest of Buffy's informal posse, were gathered around in wary readiness. Buffy had leapt straight into how helpful the guy had been during their run-in with the gentlemen. Very reluctantly, he spilled small tidbits about his Initiative gig. A lot of it confirmed Xander's thoughts, or at least implied as much, and he could _hear_ the gaps in his explanation.

So, without hurrying, Xander tailed after Riley and Buffy. He observed with a certain amount of... irritation, admittedly, and impatience, for the boy to split off and make his own way onto the college campus.

Faced with a sudden dilemma over how to go about things, Xander thought back to what his long-lamented friend Jessie would use as a deciding factor.

_What would Batman do?_

So he grabbed Riley's ankles and shot into the air at his best possible speed. The young soldier screamed, but to his credit, didn't wet himself. The various Sunnydale natives (_and bless their oblivious hearts! _thought Xander) hardly paid the event any mind.

About two-hundred feet up, Xander paused in his ascent and faded back into visibility. He drew Riley up.

"Heya! Now, you were new, following orders, etcetera, so I'm going to settle on giving you the most polite possible warning of which I am capable, given the sheer amount of pressure that I'm under." Riley's eyes bugged.

"Buffy said you were cool!" he shouted, abandoning decorum. Xander nodded.

"I _am_ chill, friend. Room-temperature, actually. But some things send my blood a'boilin. Kidnapping, for one." Xander narrowed his eyes, which he was pretty certain were glowing red at that point.

"Kidnapping little girls, even if they were born before the Reagan administration, is not cool, Riley my boy."

"Kidnapping?" said the soldier in honest confusion. Xander nodded, understandingly.

"I'm sure it's easy to forget that, amongst all those things with tentacles and eyes like scrambled eggs that you and your boys are pulling in each evening, that some of them might have _faces._ And that some of those faces might be indicative of the actual, compassionate beings looking out from behind them. It's all a bit... confusing, I know."

Xander shrugged, incidentally making the soldier bounce.

"So I'll give you the cliff-notes version. I am the _king _of vampires. That's 'monarch', in case you were thinking of the word in some other sort of context. My lovely, loyal subjects wear red and black. Strictly. It's sort of a thing they picked up on their own, but right now I'm _very_ glad that they've got colors of their own. It makes these misunderstandings that much easier to clear up!" The vampire king ducked closer, just slightly, and let his look of child-like surprise morph into something altogether more sinister.

"So the next time I have to sneak in -undetected, I might add- and start setting shit on fire while rescuing one of my own, I will _not _stop at distractions. I will wait, invisibly, in your _bedrooms at night._ Got it?" Riley stared, bug-eyed.

"You... you can't-" Xander allowed himself to give, just slightly, into his game-on persona. Batlike features flowed over his face like black honey.

"Can't I?!"

Riley stared. Xander released his monstrous persona and smiled.

"Also, treat Buffy right. That girl does _not_ have a lot of luck in relationships, I tell ya!"s

**-Angel's Investigations-**

Xander sat under a billboard, slowly moving through some chords from the latest monstrosity to hit the air waves. He felt extremely dubious about the latest Ozzy songs, but felt it safer than not to commit the things to memory. Maybe someone would eventually do a nice cover, or something.

His phone rang.

"Aloha! That's 'hello', in Hawaiian, don't ya know?"

"Sir?" Xander grinned.

"Eric! Buddy! What's the big thing?" There was a pause from the other end of the phone line.

"You've, uh, been missing for two days, sire." Xander nodded seriously.

"Very true. Also, I shanghaied five of our guys. That's probably why the line for beef blood has been so quick."

"I _had _noticed that, sire. Um, might I ask where you are?"

"Of course you can."

"..."

Xander's grin widened. There was a sigh from the other end.

"Where are you, sire?"

"In Los Angeles, stirring up trouble. I don't want our wayward Scoobies to forget my face, you see."

**-Inside Angel Investigations-**

"While I'm sure I can guess who's responsible for... this," said Wesley, "I'm not entirely sure on the 'why' angle, yet." Angel nodded.

"Yes. That _is_ a mystery."

Life-sized posters of one Xander Lee were pasted onto every interior surface of the hotel. Every one of them. For gods' sakes, they'd been applied to the inside surface of the _toilet bowls_, which had caused Angel to seize up rather painfully after he'd woken, that evening.

Cordelia Chase was in her room on one of the upper floors. She tore at the walls and was trying as fast as possible to return her sanctuary to a state of normalcy. If she'd known this would be the result, she'd _never_ have called to check up on that damned vampire king. Really, she'd just wanted someone to bitch at about their lack of manpower and about their financial troubles. And Xander had been the only one guaranteed to be awake at the god-awful hours during which Angel Investigations operated.

She moved on from the walls, and began to attack the furniture. When she got to the bed, the poster in the center winked and said, "Boo."

She fainted.

She woke up to see Xander holding a fistful of, yes, posters of himself, and fanning her face with them.

"Explain before I scream and kick you." He frowned.

"But you're wearing _heels_, Chordy!" She nodded.

"That way I know it'll hurt a lot more." Xander sighed.

"All my friends are so ungrateful-" he ignored her protest that she was not, in fact, his friend. "I'm just making the world a better, prettier place! See you later, Chordy. Call more often!"

He floated out the window.

Cordelia took the time to compose herself and wash her face in the sink. The faucet smiled at her with pointed teeth.

"God _damnit_." She wandered downstairs. There, she found the other employees of the firm staring down a quintet of vampires dressed in Xander's 'royal' red and black.

"Cordelia?" prompted Angel. She shyed away, slightly.

"I might, maybe, have mentioned to Xander that we were sort of low on people," she mumbled.

"Because we can't afford to _hire_ anyone else," said the souled vampire sternly. One of the men on red and black spoke up.

"We're, uh, paid by the Royal Society, Mister Angel."

"Lovely," said Wesley. "Get out."

"We're able to pay rent. In full. For each of us." Angel froze. The others looked at him with incredulity.

"You can't be serious," said Wesley. Angel worried at his lip. "Angel!"

-**Willy's Bar And Snitchery-**

"The Initiative's all but pulled out of the field," said Tricia from over her warm glass of pig's blood.

"You know, I was about to tell _you _guys that," grumbled Xander. "Walsh went out like a kebab and Buffy's trying to get her corn-fed boyfriend off of his super-roids. Where did that little factoid source from on your end?" Eric shrugged, but glared at the crowd of demons gathered for a Friday night pick-me-up. They maintained a constant, bare circle around the group.

"Just good guesswork, sire. Our workload on patrols nearly doubled this week. We were relying too much on the Initiative and their efforts near the University and environs. They were, more or less, picking up the slack. We might have to draw back in a bit, closer to home.

"Retreat would be a bad thing. We just sent _another_ five over to Deadboy's house of ill repute. What we need is to bolster our numbers. Any possibility of offering more olive branches?" Xander drained his Hawaiian Punch clear of red, and signalled Willy for another.

"Make that a clean glass," he warned the man. "If another one of my cups winks at me, I'm telling Buffy you've been trying to sell upskirt photos of her."

Willy blanched and hurried off.

"The olive branch approach is sort of slacking off," said Tricia. "Something about half of the branches ending up in torsos, or something. The free nests and enclaves are getting a lot better at hiding."

"We need manpower," said Eric. "Anything else we can get from your mortal friends' side?"

"The Scoobies are just as bad off as us. This Adam business is coming to a head tonight. Oz has already been running more patrols than he should. I have no idea how he gets the energy for Willow and Tara." There was a beat of silence.

"Wait. What?" Eric was suddenly staring off into space.

"Well, it's more Willow's thing, I guess. It's good to see her gaining some self-confidence." Xander nodded firmly at his own statement. Tricia rolled her eyes at both of the males.

"Back on task. We need manpower, and we need at least two more lieutenants. Do you have anyone in mind, sire?" Xander snorted.

"You two picked _yourselves._ Don't accuse me of actually organizing this avalanche of responsibility!" He sighed at their twin, implacable stares. "Just... just start sounding out some of the veterans, okay? Preferably someone who was turned while they were older. It's _ridiculous_ that this thing is run by people who can't enter a bar -outside of Willy's- without getting ID'd."

"Got it, sire," grinned Eric.

"As for manpower... I think I'll give a call to the Brachen clans. I know a lot of them go into the service- I imagine their parents would like them to be able to visit more often while still pulling off the more... exciting... kinds of community service."

"I'll give Sean a call," said Tricia happily. She stenciled something into a notepad. Xander eyed the thing warily. They were taking notes, now?

_Oh glob,_ he thought. _We're turning into competent and surprisingly sexy Watcher's Council. I'm not sure how okay I am with this._

**-Within The Initiative-**

Xander was invisible. That was sort of the important element to the first part of the plan. Buffy, Riley, Giles and Willow were with the current (and rather new) commander of the Initiative, trying to convince him that everything he knew was about to fall to ruins. This was, of course, only really their plan 'B'- they were just doing things out-of-order by necessity.

"The idea that the Initiative is in danger from an, ah ha, _internal_ threat is simply ludicrous. Agent Finn, I find myself disappointed and appalled. While you will be given the greatest possible leniency considering your service record with us under the late Maggie Walsh, rest assured that there _is_ a trial in your future."

That, of course, was when the power went out. And, judging from the panicked yells of several nearby engineers, so had the backup generators.

The circle of Initiative soldiers surrounding the Scoobies were quickly dispatched in the confusion. Buffy moved in her typical inhuman grace, and, well, Xander was _freaking invisible_. There was no contest.

After the commander had 'politely' been removed from his seat, Willow logged onto his console and found what the gang had suspected was there- ventilation that went, by the blueprints, absolutely nowhere.

The group moved as close to that nonexistent area as they safely could before doing the spell that would bind their strengths to Buffy. Willow and Giles slumped immediately, and Xander couldn't help but do the same thing- he hadn't felt so weak since he was human.

"Yo, Buffster." The Slayer paused in the doorway and sent a hesitant glance back. Xander shrugged as far out of the bass shoulder strap as he could. "Take it. It's forged from demon blood, tuned perfectly, and I've been playing the Rolling Stones all week to get it in the proper groove." Buffy grinned.

"Thank you, Xander." She kissed him on the cheek and took up the weapon. For a moment, she frowned at the weight of the weapon. "This was made out of some kind of lard-demon, right?"

"Nah, just full of love. Don't worry- I cleaned it." The Slayer made a face and only _then_ moved off. Giles, slumped where he was, cast a wry glance at Xander.

"What? She already knows vampirism isn't sexually transmitted."

"Bad joke, Xander," wheezed out Willow. "Seriously, though, why didn't you just skip the spell and go fight with her?"

"Buffy's got this." The vampire struggle to sit up and then gave it up as a bad job. His dramatic moment would be had from the level of the linoleum tile. "Slayers don't follow rule one. They're thrown out into the world alone-"

"Ah-hem," an older voice growled out.

"Alone except for Giles," corrected Xander. "If everything I've built burns to the ground tomorrow, there will still be a Slayer."

"If I remember correctly, it was the two of you who insisted that the Slayer doesn't stand alone," Giles reminded him, chiding.

**-Main Hall, Intitiative-**

_"Of course she doesn't," said Xander._

Buffy spun in place, parrying Adam and gaining a moment's worth of space. The man-made hybrid stumbled, but smirked. He was still sure of victory.

_"I get it, I think," said Willow. "She gets the first blow and the last blow. Those are the only kinds ever mentioned in prophecy. The rest of events are open and undefined." Xander loved when Willow went Gandalf on them._

Adam tried to take her off-guard with another appearance of a demon's claw, which was, again, buried in the meat and metal of his arm. The Slayer danced around it, sliced it off at the base, and began chanting. The words were melodic, and brought to life invisible ribbons that trailed after her in a graceful wake.

The spell to bind and restrict the monster was weaving itself as planned. The magic, fueled by Willow, was guided by the ancient tongue perfected by Giles's years of study. Xander's will kept her moving, kept the axe spinning, even as she wove the spell. It was Buffy's own grace which made her untouchable.

_"An... interesting summation, Willow," acknowledged Giles. "Stepping in where fate fails, I suppose, is the best anyone can hope for."_

Adam had not anticipated the spell. Magic, an intangible, unpredictable thing, seized him at every point and left him bound to a space which was, for a single moment, more stable than any other in the universe.

His eyes widened. He understood that inevitability was no longer a thing on his side. There was no hint of surprise, then, when the axe began to take him apart a limb at a time. When his power core was hacked out roughly and left to go dim, he had already been defeated forty seconds beforehand.

**-The Commander's Office-**

The trio that made up the Slayer's inner circle were trying to pass the time with badly-slurred word games, when a demon, straying from the massive breakout-turned-battle, appeared at the doorway.

"A pretty prize," it growled, starved and pissed off from its long confinement. Xander was just trying to gather up the energy necessary to transform into something suitably horrifying when Spike stumbled up behind the creature and broke its neck.

"Well what do you blokes know?" William the Bloody grinned. "It does my cold heart good to see this place in chaos."

"Well shit. Does this mean we're not allowed to kill him, again?" asked Xander. Damn the Brit's protective shield of impotence, anyway.

-**Summers Home-**

"I am wired. I should be tired, but I am wired. Oh dear god that _rhymed._" Xander clenched at his knees, grinned, and rolled back and forth. He felt manic and cheerful, and he wanted to drink the red from the sky. Except that the last time he went a little crazy and tried to do that, he'd ended up with third-degree burns and wound up crashing through the roof of somebody's Camino.

Sitting with his friends and watching a terrible movie was probably a much better alternative.

"I expected you all to be exhausted, really, since you fought that... super Frankenstein's monster... thing," remarked Joyce. Giles, from his place on the Summers' largest easy-chair, shrugged.

"The after-effects of the spell have left us all rather 'super-charged', I suspect. Much like some mystical, caffeinated intravenous drip."

"If you say so," said Buffy's mother. "I've got some paperwork to take care of for the gallery, then I'll be going to bed." The elder Summers woman kissed Buffy, Willow, and Xander on their foreheads, and gave Giles a companionable pat on the shoulder. The elder Englishman conspicuously ignored Xander's triumphant grin, but Willow sent a magic spark at the vampire's butt.

"None of that, mister. If _I _can't ogle her, neither can you!" Xander waggled his eyebrows.

"Do it. Just, go ahead and do it. I want to watch you watching her."

Buffy casually hefted the coffee table and gave both of them a very calm look.

"The next person to use the words 'ogle' in a sentence where my mother is the subject gets to go to sleep. Immediately." Giles cleared his throat.

"Why don't I just pop in the film, yes?"

Xander grinned and rocked madly for a bit as the opening music started, but started to blink more heavily.

"Huh. Um, hey, guys?" He looked around. There wasn't anything unusual about the scene- just your average post-apocalyptic vision of Sunnydale after the fall of man. Obviously everything was alright, as he could see himself and Giles sitting in the distance, on an overturned ice cream stand.

"I swear, Marshall, you are the biggest pest I ever led around a dytopian hellscape," said Giles in his blue dress and golden crown.

Xander, who was Marshall, after all, looked up and grinned through two missing front teeth.

"Aren't I just? The trick is to be extra adorable." Giles nodded sagely and redid his ponytail.

"Just as I taught you- it's a simple lesson that will get you far in life. Why, with the right attitude, you could rule the Nightosphere."

"Golly gee willikers!" replied Marshall. The seven year-old boy looked around in confusion. "Simone, I'm hungry." Simone nodded, and rearranged her tweed jacket.

"Well, once I've gone mad and abandoned you, the Cheese Man will be just around the corner. Find him before you die, and you'll have a meal fit for a devil!" She paused, and reconsidered her words. "Well, a devil that isn't lactose-intolerant, at least."

Little Marshall nodded in agreement. His father Anthony Harris, lord of the Nightosphere, had cut dairy out of his diet entirely to make room for souls.

Knowing he had to leave Simone before she went crazy or turned into a male Watcher again, little Marshall wandered back through the alleyways of the dead Californian town and through the bright red curtains that marked the rear of the highschool's auditorium. He was just in time for the show.

Simone and Willow had switched costumes. Willow wore the crown because 'the Ice Queen would _never_ suffer from stage fright', just as the ancient Sumerian prophecies had predicted on the back of Xander's cereal box, that morning.

Translating those had left him without enough time to do the crossword puzzle, which was _bad_. The crossword puzzle always told him of things to come. Mostly it was news on the winning sports teams, but occasionally it was word of his imminent demise.

Willow, babbling the secrets of ice and snow, walked onstage confidently and winked at Marshall out in the crowd. Marshall was thrilled- she knew his face! Maybe she could come home, now, and it would be as if she never left him at the side of a road to be devoured by wild dogs. The bites had hurt a _lot_.

"I dedicate this play to Xander Lee Marshall Abedeer, because he helped me find my sexy and made sure he'd outlive us all."

She walked up to Tara, in her cowgirl outfit, and kissed her. It was beautiful, and brought a tear to Marshall's eye. They were so _pretty!_ And Tara would stay especially pretty, forever, because he could see that from the place where her tongue met Willow's, ice was traveling down her throat and encasing her head. Soon she would be a statue. Oz was already dead, and was dripping quietly on the wooden stage.

"This wasn't mentioned on your aptitude test, you drop-out," said Principal Snyder. He sat in the next seat and loomed over the young boy. "I had a nice future planned out for you- you'd make manager of the Doublemeat Palace within ten years, with just a little effort, but you had to make a desert out of ashes."

Marshall nodded shamefully, and kept his eyes on his feet. There he could see the ashes rising. All the monsters pretending to be decent human beings had been cremated. Their remains filled the space under the seats and stretched out forever- under a harsh blue sky that would be his death from now on.

Where the stage had been, _she_ stood. Burnt dark under a pitiless sun and oh-so-alone that it made him want to weep, the First Slayer watched him.

"You are interfering with my task. Soon, you will be a vampire, and then I will kill you. You will no longer confuse the daughter of my untimely demise."

Marshall wanted to say, "But I _am _a vampire! I'm the king!" But he knew it would mean his death, so he kept silent. She was beautiful, but she was not pretty. Not like Willow or Tricia or Buffy or Cordy or Tara. No, she was like his axe, only she couldn't sing.

Marshall stood and tried to brush off the ashes. They coated his skin instead, and made him grey. There might be a song in all of this, he knew, but his bass was standing in the sun and threatening to kill him, so he left.

The sky turned red, and Marshall wondered where Buffy was. One girl in all the world, and he'd probably searched the entire world _twice_ in the last five minutes, at least. Her being the last human alive was no excuse, in his mind. Likely she had died a long time ago, alone in the ocean where she'd drowned.

The halls of his father's palace grew around him, and the earth grew slick with blood. The Cheese Man, holding his plate full of food that made Marshall's stomach curdle at the very sight, stood before him. Marshall's stomach had been too empty, and for too long, for him to actually stomach the sight of food. The Cheese Man offered the boy a sympathetic glance.

"I wear the cheese. The cheese does not wear me." And then Marshall was alone, except for the crowd of monsters and his father.

"I found you, boy. Look at you- nearly _dead_." Anthony shook his head in disgust. "It's a wonder you're still alive, even with _my_ noble blood flowing through your veins. We have to get rid of the human element, you see." Marshall trembled, and cried, and shouted, but he was dragged before the assembled mass of monstrosities and bound to the floor.

Xander appeared. He was tall and _dead_ and he smiled grimly from beneath his wide-brimmed sombrero. Marshall struggled against Giles's grip, but was unable to escape the approaching vampire.

"I already gave Buffy my heart. It's beating elsewhere," Marshall tried to say in his own defense.

"Your blood is still warm, though," replied Xander dismissively. He drained the boy's blood so fast that his veins ached, and Marshall's husk was left on the floor. His dry, cracked eyes glanced around wildly. They fell only on Xander, who was picking apart his own veins methodically.

"Drink," he said, and Marshall did. It was his only chance to save the world, after all. The bombs were falling years ago, and he had to stop them soon.

Strong, and tall -though perhaps not quite as tall as he might have become, had he lived longer- Marshall stood and hefted his axe.

"Rule one," smiled Xander, and with a _thrum_ his head fell to the floor and dissolved.

Marshall held his axe, which could not smile from under its tangled hair. He held her arm with both hands, but her free limb tore forward through the air like a whip. Through his chest. He looked down, balefully.

"I outlived them all." He looked back up, and Joyce smiled at him from above her impaling arm.

"You died before Dawn rose. I'm sorry, dear. Every vampire should die under a bright, noon sky. It's the last gift they ever get."

"A king needs no gifts," said Xander. "I'll give my own heart away every time, you know."

"I know."

Xander woke up feeling alone. But then his friends were there, and the movie was over, and they were all still alive. Four uneasy glances bounced amongst each other.

"Did anyone else see the Cheese Man?"

-_Author's Note-_

_I loved that last bit so hard. As an extra bit of trivia, I wrote this whole thing backwards, scene by scene. Praise be to the Buffy/Angel wiki, which tells me everything I ever forgot!_

_Best unincluded line from 'Restless': "We're drawing up a plan for world domination. The key element? Coffeemakers that think."_

_We're back on schedule with this story. To those who want to be in the know, I've already written four chapters from the second arc, taking place in the land of Aaa._


	6. The Summers Women

_-Author's Note-_

_I am, indeed, a terrible person. I was working way in advance of this stuff when I really, really should have been writing this present chapter._

_On the other hand, this particular one wasn't lost to a hard drive crash, lemmings, or emotional breakdown caused by the cancellation of Christmas, or something._

_This one is Dawn-centric, sorta. Season five was a total mind-screw for fans, and I hope I've managed to communicate just that feeling here for you, now!_

Bio Of A Nihilistic Prankster

Fandoms: Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Adventure Time

**-Chapter Six: The Summers Women-**

**-Giles's House-**

"Giles? I want you to leave this to me."

The Watcher, in the kind of resigned panic that can only come from one's umpteenth time being cornered by soulless monsters in what is supposed to be a place of safety, nodded dumbly. He glanced first at Dracula's three brides, then at Xander, then at the door.

"God speed, my boy." He vanished to go help Buffy deal with the master vampire himself.

The three women, wearing exactly the kind of clothing one might see on the cover of some smutty remake of the '_Dracula'_ novel, began to size up Xander.

"And who would you be?"

"To deprive us of our fun."

"To stand as bold as brass, when outnumbered three... to one." Remaining as calm as possible, the flannel-wearing vampire slung his bass axe onto the couch.

"Xander Lee, Sunnydale's vampire king. What kind of a threat are the three of _you_ supposed to be, exactly?" The women grinned, as one.

"Walking through centuries, we are the _true_ sovereign's consorts."

"Such an upstart you must be, to think that you can offer sport."

"Such a boy. You'll offer little challenge."

"I beg to differ," grinned Xander, and decided Giles would forgive him if his house came out a little the worse for wear. It wasn't often he got to go up against verifiable legends. Dracula was, much like he himself, supposed to be able to shapeshift. He'd know well enough by their reactions.

The change was quick. Hair burst from his clawed arms, which themselves quickly stretched into massive, malformed wings. His head was fully the size of the Watcher's couch, and his massive slit eyes glowed a dull, cruel red. Destroying the ceiling to display his full height would probably be a touch _too_ extreme, he figured, so he settled on simply filling up all of the available space with as intimidating a presence as he could make.

At first, he thought that his display had exactly the intended effect. The three brides crowded as far from him as possible, shrinking into each other if only to give themselves the illusion of breathing room. Their expressions, though, were somewhat... off.

"Such a terrible beast..."

"Such large eyes he has..."

"Your wingspan, sir... may I measure it?"

"What? Hey, personal space! I need an adult!"

**-Three Hours Later-**

Victorious and mildly smug at the fine performance put on by his Slayer, Giles pulled up in front of his house to find a dazed Xander Lee sitting on the stoop. In his hands was a cigarette.

"Xander, are you quite alright?" asked the Watcher, stepping out of his car with a bit of cautious haste. The pale teenager blinked and took a long drag from the tightly-rolled paper.

"Nngh."

"I, er, didn't know you smoked." Xander shrugged, or at least seemed to. His shoulders wouldn't quite coordinate.

"It seemed... appropriate, kinda." Giles nodded warily.

"I imagine you took care of Dracula's consorts?" he asked. "Buffy defeated the master vampire herself, and while I was entirely confident of your abilities, I-"

"I drove them off," confirmed the young man. "Eventually. It took... time. Lots of time. Um." He glanced back at the cigarette and made a face before stubbing it out.

"I should, uh, go," said the vampire king. He stumbled up, took to the air, and only narrowly avoided a series of power lines.

Giles, just a tad worried both for the teen as well as for the state of his own house, made his way indoors. He paused. Breathed.

"Why the blood hell does it smell like-" His expression froze.

"Xander Lee you get _right_ back here!"

**-The Warren-**

Xander hovered above his throne and dialed the cordless phone. He used to have a corded one, but for the sake of convenience and because he tended to float freely as he talked and ended up, in the process, stringing any number of plastic tripwires, had found Tricia had replaced it.

"Hello?" came the voice from the other end as it picked up.

"Yo. Who is this?"

"Dawn Summ- Xander, is that you?!" Xander shook his head slowly, condescendingly.

"Sorry, don't know any Dawn Summers. Is one of the ladies of the house available?" There was an answering growl.

"If you're going to imply for a _single second_ that I'm somehow not a lady-"

There was a moment, a brief flicker of time, really, where confusion passed over the vampire king's face. Then he broke into a grin.

"Of course I'm not, Dawnie! You know you're my favorite, next to Joyce."

"That's just cause she bribes you with red velvet cake!"

"What can I say- I'm easy!" Xander winced, and really hoped that nothing carried over in his tone of voice that would lead the precocious young lady on any awkward tangents.

Glob only knew how Buffy would react to him corrupting her baby sister with evil, evil thoughts of the world outside Revello Drive.

**-The Summers Home-**

"This seems sort of unfair, Xander," said Dawn as she hefted the crossbow.

"Shh. Lead your target, Dawnie. You've got a _very_ steady arm!" complimented the vampire king. Dawn frowned.

"Seriously, don't you usually try to recruit these guys, first?" she asked, before pulling gently on the trigger. It was only a shoulder shot, but Xander nodded approvingly. The girl was improving by leaps and bounds, and he was _certain_ Buffy would congratulate him on improving her survival skills rather than, say, keeping her bundled up safely in the house.

_Right. I'm _so_ going to end up practicing my knife-avoidance skills._

"Think carefully, Dawn. These guys are following _Harmony_. I don't need to lower the average IQ of the Royal Nation that badly, y'know?"

"Mm," hummed Dawn in agreement. She fired again, and this target disappeared into a cloud of dust.

"Good! I guess we know who's picking the next movie!" The brunette grinned excitedly.

"Princess Bride?"

"As you wish," he grinned back.

**-The Magic Box-**

Xander was worried. No, scratch that, he was _terrified._ Some freaky demon version of him was leading an army of vampires to take over Sunnydale, his old house had, at some point, been put up for sale, and the high school had apparently been vaporized. While that last tidbit was no great loss in his mind, it _did_ point to the fact that something had gone terribly wrong. He'd lost time that he couldn't account for.

He'd woken up in a junk yard, of all places. Willow, his first option when it came to touching base with the world, hadn't been home. Her room, as he'd been able to see through the window, had been nearly empty.

It had taken him nearly two days of hiding and moving at dusk and dawn to avoid both the authorities as well as Sunnydale's nightlife, but he'd finally tracked down the Scoobies at the town's magic shop, of all things.

Now he had... himself... at stake-point, and was horrified to find the rest of the group was trying to talk him down from killing... himself.

"I know Buffy, and Giles, and Willow. Except they're older, and hotter. Except for Giles," he said, and sent an apologetic look at the man. The elder British man just nodded in game understanding.

"Fully understandable... Xander. Tell me, how old are you?"

"Sixteen. Duh." He glanced around, nervously. "Aren't I?"

"Looks like it," said Willow. The blond girl next to her had a comforting hand on her waist. That was sending Xander's brain to odd places, so he jerked his gaze away.

"Why am I a vampire? Why aren't you people freaking out and staking me like you _should be doing!?_" he asked, edging into hysteria. "I am _not _pulling a Jessie, here, so you tell me when we got chucked into the deep end of the Twilight Zone, alright?"

Then the... other... Xander started talking. He kept talking, and the real Xander, the _human _one, found himself nearly losing his grip on the stake.

"...and that's why everything's so different. That's Anya, ex-demon who's sort of Giles's employee," said the monster, and the blonde girl behind the counter waved.

"Please don't damage the inventory if you kill yourself, now!"

"Those are Tara and Oz, Willow's... special friends," continued the other Xander. The human's eyes went wide.

"How, um, special?" 'Oz' grinned. "Right. Okay. I feel dizzy, here." The small brunette by Buffy was giving him a considering eye.

"Can I have him?" she asked.

"No!" Buffy, Xander, demon Xander and Giles shouted. She pouted.

"No perving on him, sis!" glared the Slayer.

"Sis? Sister?" asked Xander in confusion. Xander Lee gave him an odd look, and seemed, as he'd been the entire time, to not give an ounce of notice toward the stake at his heart.

"Yes... Dawn? Joyce's less terrifying daughter?" He seemed to reconsider his last statement. "Up until about a minute ago, I mean?" 'Dawn' continued to pout. "Fine, whatever. Obviously you're losing bits of yourself, just like I feel _I _am. We can do this rejoining thing and both not die, or you can kill me and sort of fade away."

That said, though, Xander Lee seemed to be getting increasingly worried.

"No. You tell me- tell _us_, what the hell made you want to tame vampires! Why didn't you stake yourself?"

"These guys already know everything," said the demon. "For my costumed persona, Marshall, the world had already ended a long time ago. I'm just trying to stop that," he said. Xander shook his head.

"No. I don't believe that. It's crap. Pure... pure _bullshit_." His hands were shaking. So, he noticed, were the demon's. At least he seemed to be about as worried as Xander. Then they both collapsed.

He expected to be set upon, or turned, or something, but found himself bewildered by the looks of _pity _in everyone else's eyes.

"Please, Xander, we have to do the rejoining spell," said Giles. For a moment he worried at his lip, before dismissing the rest of the group to go tend to the demon. They, most especially the tiny brunette stranger, did so only reluctantly. Now that they were relatively alone, the Watcher settled as calm and confident a gaze as he could upon the shivering, dying teen.

"The Toth demon's... doppleganger spell is killing you. I know you think you'll be returning to worse circumstances, but I can assure you to the contrary."

"When the change first became apparent, you did, in fact, ask me to stake you," said Giles. Xander's eyes narrowed in muzzy confusion. "You _did._ But the demon you still has a conscience. He's still a person. You've done so much in the past two years. Saved so many. Don't let your efforts end here."

"Not my efforts. Never-" he was getting _seriously _woozy. "Never did anything. Brought donuts..." The Watcher looked furious, but Xander didn't know where he was aiming the glare.

"Do the spell, Willow. _Now._"

Xander blinked, and breathed a long, unnecessary breath. Dawn was looking down at him from an awkward angle.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked. Quickly, Xander thought for some reason other than 'you weren't here two years ago'.

"You perved on me when I was brain-damaged!" She blushed and quickly backed away. Xander Lee glanced around and caught sight of Buffy. "And now I have to run," he said, hoping he could get some distance on the over-protective Slayer.

As soon as he got away, he was going straight to the hospital to spend some time with Joyce. She said he hadn't changed any, and he always believed Joyce. And she'd be in a better mood _before_ Buffy found her and started making wild claims about his intentions toward her younger daughter.

**-The Giles Household-**

"That matches with, ah, with what Buffy managed to ascertain," said Giles. He was staring fretfully into a cup of tea. Xander Lee had managed to demolish a small case of strawberry Twinkies so far, and his mood _still _hadn't improved.

"You said she wanted to keep this quiet, though," he prompted the Watcher, who nodded.

"We're not entirely sure what we're up against, here," said the man. "You, though, I wanted to keep appraised. Aside from being our current largest source of information on Sunnydale's underworld-" he ignored as Xander preened a bit, "-if this is indeed our latest 'big bad', then I'd rather we all be ready sooner rather than later."

"Crazy people," muttered Tricia. Giles nearly dropped his cup.

"I _do_ wish you wouldn't do that," muttered the Watcher. Xander's lieutenant shrugged.

"Sorry, I've got to practice," she said. "But I mean it, there are more... crazy people out on the streets. It's like walking through New York," she said without a trace of humor. Xander rolled his eyes. "I think Artie, with the northern patrols? He said this was the first time a human jumped out of the dark and tried to bite _him_."

"That's... interesting," said Giles mildly. Xander struggled to keep his expression under control.

"I gave Deadboy a call," prompted the vampire king. At Giles's disbelieving look he said, "Fine. I called _Faith_. She said half of L.A. is freaking out with new prophecies and portents and other hoodoo."

"And, um, how is Faith?" asked the Watcher cautiously. He'd been following the other Slayer's progress with careful optimism.

"Still hiding mousetraps in mattresses, if she's been following my orders," said Xander matter-of-factly. "I feel she's making great strides in her rehabilitation. Angel's technically holding her parol terms, but I'm still calling the shots."

"You're using the second Slayer to prank the souled Angelus," breathed Tricia. "I'm not entirely sure how worried that should make me." Xander waggled a finger.

"Your glorious leader has a plan, young comrade. Many plans, actually. By the way, what's Eric's word on Project Nightosphere?" he asked, well aware that the project's title would be misinterpreted by everybody, no matter _how_ much they knew. Giles, for instance-

"Xander?"

"Nothing to do with the actual hell dimension," assured the vampire king. "Just me getting overly ambitious. Well?" he prompted toward Tricia. She shrugged.

"Too far away in the future to be certain. We're not stretched any less thin than we were when Adam went crazy. We're definitely closing the net, though." The Watcher looked both bemused and annoyed.

"You've got to come to the war council," said Xander. "This summer, things are going to get hella crazy."

"Summer is our quiet time, Xander," replied the man sternly. "One of these days I hope to take an actual, and I gasp, _vacation._"

"That's loser talk, G-Man. We're all winners, here." Without warning, his mood flipped. "Now, what about Dawnie?"

"That... we'll have to wait and see," said the Watcher tiredly.

**-The Magic Box-**

Xander Lee wasn't exactly unused to being invisible, but this was just _ridiculous._ He, Spike, and a packful of butt-ugly demons were brawling in Giles's store. And the others were completely unable to sense them except in the most peripheral sense. This had to be a spell, but Glob knew who had actually cast the stupid thing.

"Why the hell are you here, Spike?" he asked, yanking his bass axe out of one demon's chest cavity. The British vampire, in full game face, glared.

"Nothing. No reason. I hate her, damn it, I'm doing this under duress!" He grabbed another of the things trying to sneak up on the Slayer.

"Seriously. This has gone from weird to weird. I can't tell if you're an enemy or a bumbling sidekick."

"Fuck off! I'm no bloody Krypto the wonder hound, you hear me?" The Brit, in a fit of fury, snapped the creature's neck.

"You follow DC comics?" asked the vampire king incredulously.

"Bought Bob Kane a pint once, din't I?"

"Bullshit!"

The fighting finally ended when _Tara, _of all people, arrived to end it. Xander almost found himself murdering her family members when they arrived next and started making their stupid claims. And he almost thanked _Spike_, of all people, for being brilliant enough to punch the girl on the nose and prove her human, instead of some sort of servile demon thing.

Xander just contented himself with watching the Brit writhe on the ground in microchip-induced pain. Really, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of the device, no matter how heinous the thing was in theory.

The _best _moment of the evening, though, was when Tara stared down her father with both Oz and Willow at her side, showing their own delightfully untypical dynamic.

_Call me Xander Matchmaker Lee, bitches._

**-Xander & Spike-**

"Buffy's coming." Spike nodded, but didn't let his eyes leave the plate of hotwings. Xander ate carefully, slowly and deliberately. In part, it was to make sure nobody in the Bronze took notice of how the bones came away bleach-white, but it was _also_ because he could hear the British vampire whimper, nigh-inaudibly, with every bite.

It was cruel, but then again, he could be a bit of a dick sometimes.

"Can you even eat?" asked the vampire king wryly. "I thought that was just me, 'cause of being wierd and all." Spike scoffed.

"Course I can. Like to mix things up in my daily drink, sometimes. Tabasco's a trick, yeah? But since human's mostly off the menu these days, I've been getting... cravings."

"Cravings?" asked Xander carefully.

"Cravings," affirmed Spike. His hands clenched unevenly over the tabletop as he eyed the last piece of chicken as it disappeared. Xander made a show of licking his fingers, and thought the Brit might start to cry. Thankfully, at least for the sake of the bleach-blond vampire's pride, Buffy finally arrived and broke the mood.

A little out of character, she skipped the usual conversation-opening snark and stuck a wad of crumpled cash in front of Spike's drooling face. Recovering as quickly as he could (and discreetly wiping at his lower lip) the vampire gave the blonde a suspicious look.

"What's this for, then? I'm pretty sure my personal policies as a blood sucker would have stopped me from loaning her highness a couple'a." Buffy caught his eye and scowled.

"I want to know how you killed those two slayers. How did you get the better of both of them?" Xander kept his mouth shut, and his eyes and ears open. He wondered: what had prompted this? What, he was honest enough to admit that he himself was curious to know, was the answer to this strange, suddenly very pressing question?

So Spike, after demanding the Slayer take part of the cash to get him some hotwings (non-negotiable, love), answered.

He spoke of the girl in China, fighting and dying only to be left on the ground, mumbling in her own tongue words that Spike couldn't translate. Couldn't bring himself to care about, either, but it _had _puzzled him.

The beautiful woman in Los Angeles whom he'd fought several times, only to finally kill and drink from her in an empty subway car far beneath the surface.

He spoke, finally, and not a bit too smugly, of the death wish he suspected that all Slayers held deep within them, waiting for just the right moment to express.

"The Slayer has always got to reach for a weapon. Vampires _are_ weapons, y'see. And sometimes, the Slayer hesitates. She slows herself down just a tad, to see how much time she can give the dead bloke to see how close he can _get_. Then he gets too close, and _wham._"

"We should bandage you up," said Xander, interrupting. The wound in Buffy's side, which she'd gotten not even an hour ago, was paining her. A wound made by a vampire with her own stake. That had left Xander feeling wigged out.

It had apparently just left Spike in nostalgic enough a mood to agree to recount his 'two greatest triumphs'.

"Riley already got it," she replied sternly. Defensively. "I'll be fine by morning."

"If you're feeling alright," said Spike slyly, howsabout you and me 'dance'. Like we used to, yeah?"

Xander considered exactly how well one of Buffy and Spike's 'dances' would go in a crowded dance club. He feared for the building's structural integrity.

Buffy blew the vampire off, however, and stalked off after she threw the remaining money at him.

"Harsh," remarked Xander. The Brit went into a sobbing, cursing fit. "Come on."

Distractedly, he led the vampire out into the night and left him at the door to his crypt. He did his best to ignore the fleeting moment of empathy he felt for the psychopath, and was only startled out of his funk when his watch beeped.

"Time already," he muttered, cheering up.

**-Danzig's Parking Garage-**

The parking garage was one of the taller structures in Sunnydale, situated in the heart of the laughably-named business quarter. One of Xander's more technically-minded subjects had shown up earlier to snip a couple important-looking wires, since they wanted this whole event to go as quietly as possible. It was just one of those things that puzzled Xander- vampires didn't show up in mirrors, but they _would_ show up on video.

_What the heck?_ He just called it 'magic' and left it at that.

Xander Lee set down on the top floor. He was the last to arrive. Several dozen Brachen folk from at least two clans, over one hundred and forty of his own black and red-clad subjects, Giles, and Faith were there waiting for him. The dark Slayer grinned as soon as she spotted him.

"Hey, king."

"Faith! Did you reenact any of those awesome fantasies I've had about women's prison?" he asked with a kind of desperate eagerness. She strode forward and knocked one of his ribs loose, before bringing him close.

"Shut it, dickhead." She kissed him, and Xander smiled into her lips.

"Easy there, Faith. You know you're still under joint custody of Angel Investigations and Royal Nations Unlimited. If you like you may call me 'daddy'." Faith snorted.

"That makes Angel 'mommy'?" Xander shuddered.

"If it weren't for the images that puts in my mind," he choked. Her grin widened.

"How'd you pull that off, anyhow?" Xander shrugged.

"The Brachen folk have at least two legal beagles. You're under community service, technically. Remember, you're not getting paid."

"I just get daddy's weekly 'allowance'." Xander shivered.

"I'll want you to repeat that, later. Into a tape recorder. I need some new material for my... private collection."

"Ha!"

"Now, I've got a South Park marathon starting in an hour. Glob save anyone who makes me late for it. I hear Kenny dies in tonight's episode, so let's hear some reports."

"I'll get this trainwreck started," stated Faith, making the sexiest recorded attempt yet to stand at attention. "Los Angeles is comin' along. We've got three more, uh, 'recruits', on top of the ten extra guys you sent last week. One of 'em wants to try rule one."

"Stick him on a bus, I'll see him when he gets here," advised Xander jovially. The number of prospective subjects wanting to test rule one had dropped sharply, lately. Possibly it had to do with having a Slayer on his unofficial payroll. That freaked out a _lot_ of the newbies.

"Keep half of our strength on clearing out nests," he added. "LA still has the highest unaffiliated vampire count on the West coast, outside of Sunnydale. Try not to piss off the Wolfhart dudes until we've got numbers on our side, okay? Not until we've got the Hellmouth nailed down, at least."

Giles's head shook disbelievingly. 'Locking down the Hellmouth' was a phrase he'd never believed he'd hear taken seriously, thought Xander. Easy to believe, when the Watcher's Council had only ever had one supernatural agent fielded at any one point in the last five centuries. Something else Xander was changing.

"You mean Wolfram and Hart?" asked the Watcher wryly. Xander nodded glibly.

"Yeah, those guys. Eric, Tricia? New bigwig?" Two familiar vampires, plus one absurdly tall vampire of Mexican descent, Carlos, stepped up. The newbie, who'd done like the first two had and 'declared himself' a lieutenant, was still obsessively buffing the half-and-half crest on his breast. But he hadn't screwed up so far, and so Tricia and Eric had welcomed him readily enough into their _ad hoc_ war council.

"We're doing fine," said Eric. "Activity's down to summertime levels everywhere, and no one's tried to build up any new nests in over a month. Lady Summers's graveyard patrols are, I believe, showing fewer fledglings than ever." He glanced at Giles.

The highest-positioned human member of the Royal Nation, if only unofficially, nodded with a grin.

"Buffy's been able to shift her attention to the less savory demonic varieties in Sunnydale. I believe her exact phrasing was 'cakewalk, except for those _dudes_ with the blood like Elmer's glue'." One of the Brachens snorted.

"Gol'brog demons. Nasty fuckers with their three eyes..."

"Whatever," said Xander. "Big Bads show up like friggin' clockwork. It'll be something with, like, a dozen eyes and mouths spewing madness. Wings made out of friggin _fire_, or something. Like a Balrog on acid." Choking laughter came from several points in the crowd.

"Quite likely," said Giles, never one to discount anything on the Hellmouth. "The, ah, recent rumors of this 'Beast' while, not quite resembling a Balrog _per se_..." Xander nodded.

"Eyes out for hobbits, everybody." He worried his lip just a bit. "G-Man, any word on the, um, thing?"

"Thing?" asked Giles with one upraised eyebrow. "I assume you meant the Hellmouth Cartography report?"

"That thing," nodded Xander.

"Give me a few days. I've a number of documents yet to go through. I think Willow would enjoy the more... mathematical aspect of things."

"Cool. I invited her up here, but I guess..." Giles rolled his eyes.

"She and... Oz, as well as Tara, are having a night in." Faith's eyes widened. "I'm taking notes for them as well as for Jenny. Er, Miss Calendar." He prompted the point with the spiral-bound notebook in his hands. Xander rolled his eyes.

"Just grab a copy of the minutes. Which _someone _decided we need to keep, as if this were an offical thing, or something." Tricia waved her hand shyly. "Damn it."

**-Sunnydale Memorial Hospital-**

Xander was walking -walking, like a common non-king common unawesome dude!- away, down one of Sunnydale's sidestreets. His... talk, with Riley, hadn't gone very well. The Initiative agent and Buffy were going through something, but Xander wasn't quite as close to Buffy as he had been, or would have liked to be. He had no right to step in on their escalating, bloody-minded...

_Not the time, man._

He bypassed the main desk completely. He hadn't been there when the crazy space-demon or whatever came down, or when the Initiative troops led by Riley had crashed in during their pursuit. The demon had been attracted to Joyce...

Joyce. Spouting nonsense from the _tumor in her head_. The scenario was one of creeping, horrifying familiarity. Marshall Lee's memories, as fresh as ever, prompted the terrified reactions of a boy only seven years old. A woman, just like his mother... losing her mind. Only this was supposedly temporary. She should be fine, soon. Presumably. Maybe.

The way she'd looked at him.

_Xander, don't let him eat me! He's trapped in starlight and red skies..._

He made his way upstairs, to his targets. Willow and Oz (Tara was asleep on a nearby bench) huddled together.

"So," he said. Oz nodded.

"Yup."

"Dawnie's..."

"A magical key," confirmed the musician.

"More magical memories," muttered Xander. By his current count, his 'real' memories were just being increasingly dwarfed by the mystical mojo getting crammed in there. Only his 'Marshall's' memories had been accompanied by a very real change and a mystical instrument-slash-weapon. _These_ memories were accompanied by a teenage girl that ogled him like a starved puppy.

"But, it's not just, like memories or anything," babbled Willow. "Joyce, like, saw it and she's all 'take care of her 'cause she's my little girl too' and a real person even if she's like, from the strangest extra-utero birth ever and-" Xander halted her.

"I get it. Dawn is Dawn, she's still cool." And he meant it. He _did_.

"Glory's out there. Does she know about this?"

"Narrowly not," said Oz. "It's been close."

Xander froze, and turned to where the hallway ended in a 'T'. Dawn came around tentatively, holding herself. But she was smiling.

"Doctor said she'll be, um, fine. The operation was a success."

"Sweet," echoed both Oz and Xander. Willow squealed and rushed over to wake Tara.

"Sweetie, it went good!"

"Wuzzah?" The blond blinked sleepily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." The two of them started in on some intense hug-cuddling. Oz watched, and grinned, and watched. Xander gave him a questioning glance. He shrugged.

"I'll join in a second. It's about dynamics."

"Huh." Dawn sidled up to Xander.

"Um, I was supposed to stay with Willow tonight but she, uh, looks occupied."

"_Very_ occupied," agreed Xander cheerfully. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"Think you could take me?" She froze. "I mean, for a place to stay? Like a sleep-over, only, not sleeping with, um..." She colored.

"Not a problem, Dawn-patrol. Tricia wants to meet you anyway. She's a real sweetheart." Dawn grinned.

"Can we fly?!"

"Of course."

They made their goodbyes and snuck onto the roof.

"Alright, Dawnie, how do you want to do this?" She hopped into his arms and grinned.

"For tonight's feature, I'll be playing Lois Lane, intrepid reporter. You play the hunky Superman." Xander grinned.

"Sorry, but this guy doesn't do 'hunky'- sixteen forever, remember?"

"Yeah." Her eyes seemed to cross, lightly. "Yeah..."

Xander suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He felt the cold hands of prophecy clench his throat.

_No, wait, that's Dawnie,_ he thought as the girl was already grasping him tightly.

"Um, up?"

**-The Vampire Warren-**

"Anyone who looks at her, touches her, refers to her or insists on lingering around her for more than twelve-and-a-half seconds will be shot, burned, forced to drink holy water, forced to watch thirty hours of the Care Bears Holiday Special, and then their processed remains will be handed over to the Slayer."

Well over a dozen vampires stared at him with wide eyes and sweating brows. Xander Lee fingered his axe.

"Got that?" Every single one of them nodded frantically. Then ran.

"Isn't he adorable?" asked Tricia by the kitchen counter. Dawn smiled widely.

"He just gets all... protective. Almost as nice as when he's goofy." She sipped from her mug and made a face. "Uh..." Tricia eyed it.

"Oh, I think that one's mine!" Dawn eyed the thing.

"Blood cocoa?" Tricia nodded. Dawn took another sip and grimaced. "I'm not seeing the appeal." She switched mugs with the vampiress.

"To each their own," mumbled Tricia offhandedly, savoring the drink.

"So he's like, just about my age, right?"

"Nope. Eighteen, just... not. Sort of?" Dawn pretended not to hear her.

"All full of teenage hormones. It's sad, really. Helpless, y'know, if faced with temptation. Very... tempting temptation." She looked over to the vampiress. "What do you think's tempting to him?" The 'him' in question was swinging his axe at one of the vampires who'd dared try to make eye contact with the human girl.

"I couldn't say. I think he had a thing for the Slayer...s, but maybe that's just a personality thing. I bet he likes 'em forceful."

"Hmm."

**-The Magic Box-**

"Ye Glob, you are _such _a douche." Quentin Travers, head of the Watcher's Council, spun and glared at Xander Lee.

"The aberration. Who... _ex_-Watcher Giles has chosen to associate with. You and your vampiric gang." The vampire king grinned. Giles, Buffy, and Anya froze. Or rather the first two froze, but Anya just continued to count the till. Xander had to admit that the one-time demoness had moxy. Or psychopathy.

"Not a gang, puss-in-tweed. I'm king of the Royal Nation. Two-hundred strong. Plus our Brachen allies." The Watcher froze and paled. "And we're keeping a better tab on things than your boy's club ever did. Buffy's been handling things better than any of your 'traditional' Slayers ever have. In fact, outside of the little factoids you're dangling over our noses, I'm not entirely sure _why_ you seem to think you're useful."

Two-hundred, minus his people in LA, among whom he'd included Faith. Plus the tentative talks with the Chobal Clans up in San Francisco. No need to push the man from 'worried' to 'terrified', after all. Scared Watchers would be stupid Watchers.

"Yes," said the man as he tried to recover. "Those facts which directly impact the survival of all those in this town and, perhaps, beyond. There are forces at work which _no_ number of your thugs can stave off, abomination." Xander shrugged.

"Could be true, I guess. _My_ thugs have class, at least," he said, motioning disdainfully at the other Watchers who'd accompanied Travers, scaring off Giles's customers. Said ex-Watcher seemed to be suppressing a grin.

"Regardless, our dealings are with Slayer Summers, and _not_ you." Dismissively, Travers turned back to Buffy and Giles. "You know the arrangements. We will be by later for the assessment. Pass, and we may declare you capable of handling the responsibility required by the current situation."

As he left, Xander let his serpentine tongue flicker out to its full length. One of the junior Watchers tripped into a door jamb. Buffy glared out after them.

"Xander?"

"Yo?" prompted the vampire king. The Slayer held him in a glare.

"I'm going to be busy, I guess, the next couple of days. Have more of your guys running around, for a while." Xander smiled. She'd given a frosty kind of courtesy to the patrols his subjects ran each night. It might have had something to do with how many of them were still terrified of her. Never, though, had she actually _asked_ for their help.

"No problem. I'll cut some of their downtime for a bit. Want Dawn to stay in the Warren again? Tricia's been going on about dubbed tapes of Sailor Moon, or something." The Slayer rolled her eyes, but bit her lip.

"Can you take Mom, too? If Dawn's out of the house again, she'll start to freak out, and with her... she's still recovering."

"Of course!" He saw the way her body was tensing. Her family hadn't been put in the line of fire like this since Angelus had been creeping around. Highly conscious of the mood, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gripped it with unconscious Slayer-strength and Xander forced himself not to react to the feeling of his bones scraping together.

"They'll be plenty safe. Mrs. S and Dawnie both."

"Good. You can keep them safe." He eyed her with concern. She looked right back.

"Things are going to get bad." He shut his eyes, but he wasn't thinking of this year's Big Bad. He saw a broken land with mutants that didn't have eyes. He pictured lonely, icey towers. He saw his mother reigning over a chaotic dimension, and the broken world on the other end of a thin, cruel veil.

"Probably."

**-Sunnydale Memorial Park-**

"A hell goddess. Of _course_ it's a hell goddess. Master vampire in a cave? Check. Old Demon tries to eat the graduating class? Why the hell _not?_ We were about due for a hell goddess. Next year it'll be... um, fuck. How are we going to top this one?" Xander Lee peered up at the stars, trying to pick out signs. "Nothing? At all? Gimme a sign, come on. How many ancient evils can one little planet collect, anyway?" He sighed.

"Dumb question, right." He heard the slightest of noises from beyond the tree line. "Bingo?" He floated over the treetops and nodded definitively. "Bingo," he confirmed.

Dawn sat in an abandoned swing. Xander drifted down and settled on its chain-suspended twin, and his butt nearly dragged right into the ground. Lousy swing. Only at the noise of the unoiled metal links did Dawn gasp and notice that there was, in fact, someone else out in the night. She settled as soon as she saw the bright red bass slung across the figure's back.

"Hey," she squeaked. Xander nodded.

"Hey. I, uh, just heard about it. Myself, I mean. Not sure why no one else told you, but people can be stupid about damsels in distress." She glared at him.

"I'm not a damsel in distress! I'm... not even a damsel. I'm fifteen years of imaginary, crappy memories. The rest of me's a big... glowing glob of _something_ that thinks it's a person." She sat in silence. Xander nodded.

"Sounds like a problem." Her head snapped up, glaring at him.

"What would _you _know about it?" Xander grinned, but not unsympathetically.

"I woke up two years ago... and got sired as a half-demon, half vampire for my own good. And... my memories are running at a one-to-forty ratio on real to crazy alternate timeline. Percent-wise, your memories are more real than my own." That seemed to if not calm, than sort of unsettle Dawn enough that she backed off.

"Buffy really... didn't say much about it. Seriously?" The vampire king nodded.

"Marshall Lee was over six-hundred years old when he got stuck in my head. He grew up with his father, the kindest human you ever met, until he was about five. Then the bombs fell. There was a war, and tiny, inhuman Marshall was one of the few tough enough to survive. He grew up in New York. One day, there wasn't any Manhattan skyline left, and the world started to go cold and grey."

He went on. Simone, the sweet woman who taught him to love music and who made songs for him. Who forgot about him, and abandoned him to eventually be discovered by his mother, Queen of the Nightosphere. He recounted the land of infinite chaos, and eventually escaping back to Earth. The vampire queen, mad but impressed enough by his royal status to take him, claim him, and _change _him. Striking her dead on a cold, windswept night. Having to kill nearly her entire court to keep alive. Finding Ooo, and declaring the funny place with its talking animals and goblins and candy folk to be off-limits to his bloodthirsty brethren.

The shrinking tribes of humans, who you hardly ever saw by the time he'd become Xander Harris for a few, short hours. Feigning indifference and even hatred for the weak things he'd once lived among and loved.

Playing funeral dirges for a world he never got to know.

Tearing into his own wrist as it became the wrist of a dumb Californian teenager. Xander held up the hand, where the bite marks lingered as they would for the rest of his unlife.

"It's not so bad," he promised Dawn. She was nearly in tears. "I can help all of my friends, all of the Scoobies, now. And the vampires? They think they're people again. I hardly miss the sun at all, these days." He nervously watched her crying. "Yeesh. Um, you're supposed to be upset about _you_, remember? Blah blah, life sucks- blah blah, stupid vampire king can go jump off of a bridge, remember?"

"You can be such a dick," she sobbed. "Shut up and let me cry." Xander tentatively stood and held her shoulders.

"Fine, but if Buffy sees us, I'm using you as a shield."

"Not if I do it first."

**-The Summers Home-**

"Seriously? You and, um, _him?_" Spike stared at the teenager uncomprehendingly. "Seems, little Bit, that you've got some sort of head injury." Dawn scowled.

"What's wrong with it?" Spike rolled his eyes.

"It's preposterous, perverse, and probably some other things that begin with a 'p'. You're a young human woman, and he's an abomination unto the face of God. Like yours truly, only less handsome."

"Like you don't want to be Buffy's abomination," muttered the girl. Spike's eyebrows shot up.

"The hell you say! That would be _wrong_, little Bit, and no question." He stilled. "Why? Has she, uh, said anything?" Dawn sighed.

**-Sunnydale Warehouse District-**

"Did you just hold that door open for me?" asked Buffy. The Slayer, in one of her uncomfortable patrols with the British vampire, had become more and more wigged out as the night had gone by. "Do you think this is like some sort of _date?"_

"What? No! No, no. That's ridiculous. You're barking, Slayer." A moment of quiet passed. "Do you want it to be?"

"Argh!"

The speed at which the nest emptied itself upon sight of the Slayer only infuriated her more- removing what was supposed to be the evening's most promising vent for her frustration. With nothing better to do, she spun on Spike.

"You don't love. You _can't. _You're a vampire and you have no soul! That chip in your head isn't a conscience, it's a fence! You're a serial killer!" Spike wavered.

"Women marry them all the time. Conjugal visits, and such." He didn't so much as flinch when Buffy's hand found its way buried in the wall, three inches from his head.

"Monsters don't love. They aren't people." Spike growled.

"Your boy Harris-Lee-whatever plays pretend at people _real_ well, Slayer. You let your mother and sister into the... _safety _of his den of psychos. Hell, you let _me_ watch the little Bit more'n once, and just told me not to go off swearing too much in front of her! Obviously you're not so uncomfortable in the company of monsters such as us, love." Buffy scowled.

"Xander is _nothing_ like you. He's not a killer. He's sweet, and he didn't ask for any of this." Spike's sudden fury, and the transformation of his face into its more vampiric form was enough to shock Buffy back a pace.

"You think I did, either? I was a bloody stupid poet, led on by a pretty girl." He stalked forward. "You think Lee's little ragamuffins aren't murderers? The little one, Tricia, slaughtered diners on the outskirts of town for fun! And on Xander's say-so, she's sitting in on cartoony pajama sessions with your baby sibling and you claim I can't be decent so long as I wanted to?"

"You _don't_. You'll drink from a human the first chance you get. I... I _saw_ Xander. During graduation day. There were a lot of wounded students and his eyes... he was hungry. I didn't say anything, but I could tell. But he held back, and watched every one of his god-damned _subjects_ to make sure they didn't try anything. The only one who _did_ got an axe to his throat." Her eyes narrowed. "Still hanging with Harmony, Spike? What's _her _diet like these days?"

She stalked off. Spike, still in his game-face, snarled and began striking the rotten, wooden walls.

"Bloody, stupid _bint_ can't even do the decent thing and put me out of my _misery_ just walks away like I was a pile on the side of the bloody road-"

**-The Warren-**

"The hell makes you all so fucking special, huh?" Spike, obviously drunk, disorderly, and other words that begin with a 'd', was swinging a broken-off two-by-four in a wide circle, holding off a number of very confused vampires of the Royal Nation.

Xander wasn't entirely sure how Spike had gotten in, or what he wanted, or why he still had a half-drunk bottle of tequila hanging out of one jacket pocket (spilling an odd wet circle out onto the floor with every swing), but Xander had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity. He drifted down from the second floor of the main atrium, and silently 'shooed' his subjects out of the room. With a dull slowness, Spike seemed to become aware that he was alone with the vampire king.

"And you! Worst of all- shoulda somethin' somethin' back of your _brains_." The vampire slurred and, eventually, settled into a sort of half-crouch with the wooden beam serving as a sort of impromptu third leg. From the look of him, thought Xander, three legs wouldn't quite be enough.

"That sounds very serious, Spike," said Xander Lee sagely. "Want to, um, expand on that a bit?"

"You're bloody peaches and cream, you are! Slayer's all, you didn't take blood even if you wanted it, account of you bein' such a gen'leman."

"What?"

"Graduation, ponce. Said she saw you hungry." Spike's eyes rolled at the sober man's inability to follow his train of thought. Xander himself froze and swallowed uncomfortably.

"That's... something. What, um, what's eating you?" The bleach-blond collapsed and glared at the ceiling.

"Says I'm not a good a monster as you or your... bloody Mouseketeers. 'Cause've you cuttin' their heads off. Can't love her, even though Dru said..." He teared up. "Oh Dru, why'd you leave me? Again?"

"Right. So, you were creeping on Buffy, and that creeped her out. And she doesn't want you back 'cause you're evil?" Spike considered the point and nodded.

"That's about it, yeah." His gaze settled on Xander. "You're the man in charge these days? What kind 'o suicide d'you recommend for the heartbroken? Stake? Sunlit stroll? I could go give Glorif'cus a slap on the ass and comment on her weight..."

Xander was, admittedly, tempted to have Spike go do the last one, if only to get the man on as the first vampire to join the Darwin Awards, but held back. He had an idea. A terrible, stupid idea that was so horribly inadvisable that he could _hear_ Giles polishing his glasses in some far-off location due to the psychic stress.

"Spike!" He leaned in close to the drunken vampire. "Want to be a Mouseketeer?"

"Bluh?" The Brit stared uncomprehendingly. Xander's smile widened, showing his permanent, lengthy canines.

"You just said that she's fine with my little group. These days, at least. Join the black and red, be all that you can be. I promise to get that chip out of your head, one way or the other." Spike goggled. "You could be a lieutenant in less than a week. Or just declare yourself one now! We're big on initiative, if not _the_ Initiative, around here."

"The hell?" Spike seemed to be waiting on the laugh track, and seemed disappointed when one didn't materialize out of the air. "Fuck you."

"Nope!" Xander's arm blurred, and the sharp points of his bass axe were suddenly at either side of Spike's neck. "You were helpful before, and stayed away, so I never bothered to go through with this. But you just walked in, threatened my people, and all but begged for me to... volunteer you. Sign or die, William the Bloody."

Spike glanced down at the taut strings along the axe's neck. He glanced back up.

"And Buffy'll love me?" Xander shrugged.

"Can't hurt. But this way, you'll do everything you were before, plus more cable channels, and you'll get some competent minions. Only, don't call them minions." Spike was silent for a time, though admittedly half of that seemed to involve staving off the urge to vomit up the earlier fruits of his tequila binge.

"S'um'uh... how many rules was that, again?"

**-The Warren-**

"Gah! Fuck!" Xander hastened back inside the front doors of the warehouse. The few subjects gathered in the front room stepped back sharply from the sunlight spilling inside.

"Where the _fuck _is my cloak? My hat!?"

"Sire? Xander?" Eric approached cautiously. He and Spike, who was still tugging at the neck of the red shirt he wore under his customary trenchcoat, were the only lieutenants present. Xander spun to face them, eyes blazing red.

"My mother-fucking Glob-damned _coat, _man. I need to go out, _now_." Spike snorted.

"What's got your panties in a wad, your bloody highness?" Xander struck out and hefted him by the lapel.

"Joyce is dead," he hissed. The Brit's eyes widened, and he looked desperately at a group of vampires.

"Two cloaks, right the hell now!" His gaze flickered back to Xander. "Are you sure?" Xander nodded tightly, and let him down. In short order, two cloaks were brought forward out of one of the 'day-travel' closets. Both vampires donned them and hurried outside.

"I've got my car around back- _hurk! _Bloody no!" But Spike was already hanging in the air by the back of the loose garment.

"Harris! Lee! Lemme go!"

"No time. Tabloids get a free show today."

They spent their time alternately scanning the streets and shielding their eyes from the harsh glare of the pavement below. Both vampires could have been declared 'well-done' by the time they made the hospital roof. Spike bolted for the stairway with Xander hot on his heels.

They found the rest of the Scoobies, plus Anya, on the lower floor.

"I'll just, um, sit over in the corner and be unobtrusive," muttered Spike. Xander quietly handed him forty dollars.

"Go get drunk enough for the both of us. That's an order," he whispered. Spike saluted.

"Yes, sire. Best attempt at jobbing I've ever gotten a start on failing," claimed the vampire as he stalked off. The biggest obstacle taken care of, Xander joined the group and joined their mourning.

**-The Magic Box-**

"Yeah, they left me in charge," said Xander. "Something something Jenny, something something autoerotica convention... long story short, Giles and Anya are both gone for the night." He tilted the phone closer to his long, grey ear and watched the clock determinedly count down until closing time.

"That's, like, way more than I needed to know," said Cordelia. "Sorry I couldn't be there for the funeral, and all. I volunteered to stay, and let the others head back. Angel talk to Buffy yet?" Xander let his eyes roll, and was pretty sure that the action was audible over the line.

"And started their regrettable, angst-filled sloppy makeouts. It was like something out of one of Spike's soap operas."

"You're _kidding._ About the soaps, not the sloppy makeouts. Totally saw that coming." Xander nodded and began to balance a pencil on his nose.

"Same here. F-Y-I, I replaced all of Wesley's luggage with rubber mice. Let me know if he finds out before he gets back to the hotel." There was a moment of quiet.

"Why did you do that?"

"To feed the rubber cats I filled his closet with." There was a snort, then a sigh from over the line.

"Angel's about to start posting snipers on the roof. He's still not sure how you managed to replace his hair gel with Polgara snot. I can _still_ smell burning hair."

"Yeah, that was awesome. I plan on bottling the scent and selling it to Spike." He grinned. "_Speaking_ of which. Did you hear about the Buffybot?"

"Murderous twin robot?"

"You wish. Giant mobile sex toy. It's _freaking out _my subjects, so I haven't actually said anything. For the entertainment value, I mean." The laughter made Xander recoil from the phone.

"Oh my God, that's precious!"

"Yeah..." Xander frowned. "Glory showed up, took him while he was running out for cigarettes. She tortured him to find the Key thing," which Cordelia didn't need to know the specifics of, "and he gets his head all but twisted off for it. I think Buffy's sort of touched by the whole thing. She pretended to be Buffybot to snoop, and he was all like, 'I'd never betray her!' and she was all like 'You so creepy-sweet. Me hate you long time.' Now he's drunk again, but I can't tell if he's upset or celebrating. He's making the newbies reenact Shakespeare so... fifty-fifty?"

"I can't believe you've added him to your little experiment," said Cordelia with a sigh. "If I ever get vamped, you sign me up before I can start eating kindergarteners, alright?"

"No problem. Though if you're starting to troll for kindergarteners, you should probably go find a real date sooner."

"Dick."

"Whore."

"Call me next week?" Xander noticed the clock finally tick past closing time, and sighed with relief.

"Absolutely."

**-Glory's Hideout-**

Xander hefted his axe. Here it was- his chance to ride in and play white knight. Tara was -horrifyingly- babbling in the corner. Buffy and Oz were trying to restrain Willow, who'd just decided to go 'Elphaba' on the hell goddess's ass, but that was proving to be less than effective, even if the eldritch abomination in a red dress seemed to actually be in pain, for once.

"Die, she-bitch!" he shouted in battle fervor, and swung. The bass axe connected, stuck, and then to Xander's absolute horror, rebounded like some sort of rubber pool toy.

He glanced at the weapon. Glory glanced at it. She smiled. Xander didn't. Then she punched him into the floor.

Concrete, as Xander had long suspected, was not a friendly substance. Were he still human, his head would have split like a melon. He coughed dust.

"Silly demon. Getting between me and my key, or that false key over there-" she negligently waved at Tara, "-that was a _stupid_ idea. It's pathetic, really. Now I'm going to smash you into pieces, so just, you know, lie there for a second."

"Howzabout _no._" Xander rolled. He chanced a glance back. "Ladies and gents, please go calmly to your nearest exits! In fact, forget the 'calmly' part- just run!"

The three figures bundled up the shaking Tara and began to retreat. Glory growled from above him. Deciding that more harsh methods had to be tried, Xander shifted shape.

Transforming his body was an automatic thing, and Hulking-out as his hideous bat self was easier than most forms. While he himself didn't have much practice, he still had years of inherited experience to fall back on. Now towering over Glory, he let out a piercing shriek and charged.

They grappled, and Xander was pretty pleased to find she was immediately pinned under his claws. Her form, human but for the terrifying force that drove her muscles and made her skin tougher than steel, writhed and shredded the concrete floor.

"Do you like that?" he howled. "Is it tasty? Because I am the Glob-damned Batman and I'm going to-" His terrible pun was cut off by a wrenching pain. Glory's delicate hands had wrapped around his clawed fingers and twisted them back in on themselves. He gave a pained shriek and found himself retreating just long enough for the goddess to gain traction and grab him more bodily.

What followed was a display of speed he'd never seen Buffy reach, even in the deepest of Slaying rages. He felt weightless, despite not using his power of flight.

_That's 'cause she threw me,_ he managed to think, before plowing through the wall. Through the wall, and then into the sunlight.

His wounds, normally no great barrier, stopped healing instantly. His fur began shedding and the skin underneath smoked. Panicking, he tried to find shelter. Through slitted eyes, he saw any number of options. A sewer grating, too far to crawl to. A tree, but far too thin to actually block out the harsh Californian sun. He shook. He _writhed_. Unconsciously, his body shrunk into its elfin, teenage form. Even his clothes weren't halting the terrible heat that spread up and down his skin.

He keened like a stupid, suffering piece of roadkill.

_Shit, no. Shit, no._ Curses filled his mind, and he became aware of the palest of shadows covering his body. Somebody was shouting. Desperately, he found himself shrinking. Even as he found himself with less surface area to burn, he found that all of his surfaces_ were_ burning.

Then, darkness. A thready, human heartbeat. If he were in any position to twist his head toward the warm skin, he knew without the shadow of a doubt that he would have bit and drank until the veins were shriveled and dead.

"Hold it together, king. We're not safe, yet."

_Oz?_ He wasn't aware he'd spoken aloud in his tiny, squeaking voice until he heard the reply.

"Yeah, hold on. Don't give me rabies. Werewolfism's bad enough, alright?" Xander became aware that he wasn't burning anymore. Wasn't dying.

He sunk into darkness.

_-Author's Note-_

_That's right, fools- you get a cliffhanger! I am so sorry, but dramatic license _demands_ I stop here. Next chapter- the final showdown against Glory, and the beginning stages of Project Nightosphere!_

_Read, review, and let me know what you think._


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